


Days of Darkness and Despair

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Engaging gap-filler, Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Fills plot hole(s), Canon - Solves frequent reader complaint, Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - Good use of minor character(s), Characters - Good villain(s), Characters - New interpretation, Characters - Strongly in character, Characters - Well-handled emotions, Drama, Other - Freeform, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Dangerous topic w/satisfying end, Plot - Disturbing/frightening/unsettling, Plot - Fast moving, Plot - Good pacing, Plot - Tear-jerker, Subjects - Explores obscure facts, Subjects - Medical/Healing, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Evocative, Writing - Experimental, Writing - Well-handled dialogue, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celeborn's Horror. Violence, implied rape, and graphic details of remembered torture. Definitely ADULT. Very dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nightmare Continues

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Slowly, feeling, memory, hearing, pain filled her body as her mind fought to remain in the darkness of oblivion. Her mouth, nay her entire body hurt. Her mind recoiled at what the taste was that remained within her. Tears spilled as awareness returned. Who would be so cruel to awaken her? To bring her back to agony? It was _Yrch_ , of course.

Soft bird song filtered through the ringing in her ears. A gentle breeze lifted a strand of her blood-soaked hair. She could smell the foul beasts and her stomach retched for the thousandth time. She would not open her eyes; she would not look upon them as they draped their bodies over her. She ran her tongue over her teeth and tried to dispel the taste of them. 

The pain became intense as awareness heightened. She screamed as it began its ritual, roiling over her body, rivulets running rampant through every sinew, every fiber of her being. Hands held her down and the familiar feeling of panic rushed through her. She tried to flail, tried to break free; her screams, barely audible above the rushing blood in her ears, continued. 

She heard words but it was _Yrch_ tongue and she could not understand; she only understood that they were once again attacking her. Their rods would soon refill her. She could endure this no longer. Her screams turned to whimpers, as hope once again left her.

'Please, no. Please, leave me. Please, kill me. Please. Please.'

" _Nana_." The whispered name echoed through her own whispered pleas. 'Elladan, my Elladan. Tell them to leave me be. Beg them, please, if you love your _Naneth_. I can endure this no longer.'

" _Nana_." She sobbed, tormented by the remembered sound of Elrohir's voice. 'Oh beloved _ion_ , beg them to release me. Badhron refuses to take me. Please, Elrohir, beg him to take me.'

Fire ran through her body, from her crushed toes to the few remaining strands of hair on her head. She screamed again as she was pulled tighter to the body that was now going to impale her. "Elbereth! Save me!"

~*~

"Lay her down, Elladan. She thinks it is _Yrch_ that hold her. She will not stop thrashing in your arms and only hurts herself more." He squeezed his brother's arm. "Please, lay her down."

Elladan looked at him in shock. "I cannot hold her?"

"Nay. Can you not see? She knows us not. She thinks we are _Yrch_. Lay her down. She will still and then we will speak with her. Then she will know we have freed her."

Tears streamed down the elder brother's face, but he nodded, as slow understanding broke through his grief. Gently, he laid her back down onto the fur-lined, blood-soaked cloak. He placed her arms to either side, pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. 

She screamed again.

"Do not touch her, 'Dan."

"I need to hold her."

"As do I, but that would bring her further pain, further terror. Please, 'Dan, do you not understand? It is neither your touch nor mine that she feels, but the touch of _Yrch_. Let her waken fully, then she will know you and you may hold her." The younger choked as he spoke the words. His own arms ached to hold his mother; his lips burned to kiss her forehead and make everything bad go away. But she was lost to them, for the nonce, as lost as when she was imprisoned in the _Yrch_ cave.

Elladan sat on his heels. Drawing in great gulps of air, he looked at Elrohir. "We must take her home as quickly as possible." Sobs shook his body.

"We must wait for a bit, until she has calmed. We cannot ride with her, screaming in terror at every accidental touch. We must help her realize she is free and safe."

His brother nodded. Elrohir crawled next to him and held him in his arms. "She will recover, 'Dan. I know she will. _Adar_ is the greatest healer in all of Arda. He will help her."

Elladan turned towards him and buried his face in Elrohir's shoulder. The muffled scream of his brother tore the youngest' heart as much as the screams of his mother. He held his idol close and whispered words of encouragement, hope, peace. At last, he felt Elladan shudder and look up. "Now, let us speak with her in gentle words and whispered love."

The elder wiped the tears from his brother's cheeks, then his own. He turned once again to the ravaged body that lay before him. "Should we wipe some of the blood away?"

"Nay. We will not touch her. The _miruvor_ is enough. Now, it is time for words, time to break through her terror and comfort her."

~*~

She continued to whimper until she felt the foul lips upon her mouth. She screamed again; she knew better than to bite down. Biting only returned biting and she had found through pain and horror that an _Orch's_ bite was a terrible thing. She cried aloud and turned her head away. She waited for the marble-like hand to grab her chin, turn her back to that hideous face, and kiss and lick and spill into her mouth. 'Belain, please take me.'

The lips left her, the arms released their hold; she was laid back upon the ground. She tensed, knowing a hard body would now cover her, and she would be pierced again. 'Only one, please, Elbereth. Only one this time,' she silently begged.

'I must be dreaming,' she thought, for no body covered her, no rod entered her. She held her breath, waiting in agony and fear, but naught happened.

She could barely hear anymore; she had been slapped about so often that all she heard most times was a ringing sound. When fear overtook her, the sound of her blood rushing replaced the ringing. Yet, once the round of torture was completed, her ears cleared again and only ringing could be heard. Until once more the _Yrch_ began their harsh laughter and their screams of hate in defiance of all Elves and of her in particular. They knew who she was, who her husband was, and they screamed and reviled his name every time they thrust into her. She screamed again as she prepared herself for their entrance.

But now, whispering filtered through the ringing. She furrowed her brow, tried to understand what was being said, what new devilry was being hatched to further torment her. She sobbed. The voices sounded like those of her sons. A cry caught in her throat. She had almost betrayed their names to the _Yrch_.

As time stretched further and further and the awaited assault did not come, she relaxed a little into the ground. Something must have distracted them, for the nonce. She waited. Another furrowed brow. She felt fur under her. Cool strands tickled her arms. She felt the softness and the warmth under her. 'Elbereth,' she sobbed, 'I go mad.' Her mind left her.

~*~

"Please, Nana. You are safe. Please hear us. It is Elladan and Elrohir. We have killed the _Yrch_. You are free. Please, Nana." They called to her for over an hour, but she lay still, soft moans escaping from her now and again. Once, her eyes fluttered and their voices rose in joy, but that was short-lived as she flinched at their shouts and finally quieted.

At last, Elrohir sat back on his haunches. "She will not waken, will not hear us. We must move her." He sobbed. "I know not if she will survive the ride home."

"We could build a litter. Drag it behind one of the pack horses."

"Too rough," Elrohir wept. "Too rough. She could not endure it in this state. She is frail, broken."

"Well I know it, 'Ro, but we must take her home. We cannot minister to her here in the wild."

"Two horses. We will strap the litter between your horse and mine and we will walk home."

"It will take an age."

"Then we will send a rider home and have _Adar_ meet us along the way."

"Then let us ready her." Elladan called to Glorfindel who waved in acknowledgment, left his guard post, and walked forward. "We need to build a litter." The Balrog-slayer nodded, turned towards the trees that surrounded the little glade where they had brought Celebrian after finding her in the caves, and motioned. Three Elves jumped from the nearby beeches and joined him. 

Elrohir turned back to his brother. "We will use our cloaks. Stitch them together. The fabric will hold."

Elladan took his off and brought out his sewing kit. Elrohir handed his brother his own cloak, then turned towards his mother. "I think she is once again insensible. I must clean her, at least wipe away some of the blood."

"I have an extra shirt in my bag. She will need to be clothed." Elladan did not look up, but Elrohir knew tears once again coursed down his brother's cheeks.

The younger son of Elrond dipped a piece of cloth into the bucket of warm water that sat by the fire. He proceeded to wipe blood from his mother's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Her mouth was fiercely swollen, cut and bruised; some of her teeth were missing. He sobbed, knowing all too well the reason for the swelling, and shuddered. A huge black and blue bulge under her right eye needed stitching, but he decided to wait on that task. He wiped the wound on her forehead and then turned his attention to her scalp. Numerous cuts and bruises showed in the patches where her hair had been torn out in great clumps. There were burns there also, ones that matched the burns on her arms, stomach and thighs. His teeth began to chatter as his fingers discovered more signs of torture. Tears fell, augmenting the water on the cloth.

"Stop it!" Elladan took the hand that held the cloth. "She is alive. For that we must be grateful."

"Grateful!" Elrohir flung his brother's hand from him, stood, and strode far from the insensible body whose appearance tortured him.  "Grateful to whom?" he hissed as Elladan followed him. "To the Valar? To Elbereth who's praises were ever on _Naneth's_ lips? Do you see those lips now? They have been _Orch_ -kissed. Bitten. Defiled." His teeth chattered once again as he tried to conquer his rage, fear, and horror. "That is _Yrch_... Their seed covers her mouth." He spat the words. "I have cleaned _Yrch_ seed from her mouth." He fell on his knees, clutching his stomach, and retched. When he was able, when his stomach had settled, he covered his head with his arms and wailed. 

"Nay," Elladan swallowed in horror. "'Twas some drink they gave her, or dirt mixed with water that lay upon her lips."

"It. Was. Seed."

Elladan knelt and held his brother. Swallowing convulsively, he tried to stifle the scream that stuck in his own throat. He could not, would not think on his brother's words. Elrohir was mistaken. That was all there was to it. But he would not anger his brother with arguments. Not now. He held him and stroked his brother's hair. " _Adar_ will heal her. No matter what was done to her. _Adar_ will heal her."

~*~

A/N - 1) According to my research, _Orch_ is singular Sindarin and _Yrch_ is plural Sindarin for Orc/Orcs. 2) The [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) equivalent of _Námo_ is _Badhron_. Námo was more commonly known as **Mandos** ([Q](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Quenya): "Prison-fortress"), which is more correctly the name of his dwelling. The [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) name for _Mandos_ is _Bannoth_. 3) In [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin), the equivalents to _Vala_ and _Valar_ would be **Balan** and **Belain** , respectively.  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mandos>  and Valar...


	2. A Father's Anguish

He stood at the lip of his _talan_ , watching as Anor began its slow descent into the west. The sky was profuse with color, unimaginable in its beauty, yet the Lord of Lórien's eyes saw naught. His heart staggered in despair. He could not even remember the last day he had seen beyond the face of his daughter. She haunted his waking moments and screamed during his attempts at rest. 

The air shimmered for a moment, and he knew his Lady, his golden love, stood beside him. He did not move. She placed her hand in his and said naught. His shoulders shook. "Of all the ills that have ever assailed me, this is the cruelest."

He felt her nod her head. He squeezed her hand. "I would fade." She did not speak, did not even flinch, and, in the midst of his agony, he wondered at it. "Do not ask me to stay here."

Once again, silence. He turned to her, his sorrow washed away, for the moment, as anger suffused him. "Would you ask me to stay? Would you wish to remain here, without her light, her beauty to keep us warm? Can you bear the thought of age upon age without her laughter? I cannot."

"So you would fade and return to Aman. And then what?"

He swallowed. "I would wait for her release from Mandos' Halls."

"Would she be Celebrían still?"

He screamed. Leaves from their home fell about him as the tree wept in the folds of its lord's anguish. He fell to his knees and covered his face. "She is fair and kind and all that is good of this land. All that is good of you."

"She covers over my failings?"

"I did not say such."

"She is the best of the both of us."

"Have you no power to save her?"

"If I had, she would now be in your arms. There is naught I can do outside of this place."

"Then what use is the Ring?"

"What use am I?"

He felt her kneel beside him. He turned to her and buried his face in the sweet depths of her golden hair. His tears wet it, but he knew she would not mind. Never before, not even at the fall of _Menegroth_ , had his heart weighed so heavy. He took a shuddering breath. "I can no longer feel her."

"Neither can I. Yet, my heart tells me she yet lives."

"No trace of her has been found. Not along the path they traveled, nor in any of the caves that Elladan and Elrohir have scoured. If she is in the hands of the _Yrch_ , as Elrond imagines, what will she be when she is returned? I cannot bear the thought of her suffering."

"If she can bear it, and yet lives, then you can bear it. You must, my Lord, for her sake. When she is returned to us, you will rejoice that you kept hope in your heart. She will know, she will discern your failing, if you lose such hope. She must have your full strength and support when she is rescued."

" _Ionnath_ _dín_ believe."

"They do. They know she lives and will not rest until she is found. Let us to Imladris. There is naught here that we can do to help in the search. My mirror shows me nothing and I chafe at this inaction. Come with me to Imladris. We will wait there, with Elrond, and welcome her."

"I would kill him, if I saw him."

"I believe he feels the same against you. Did not she leave in our care? Was it not our _Galadhrim_ who guarded her on the path?"

"His were there also. She was in their safekeeping. Ours were supplemental. Though they gave their lives for her."

"As did his warriors. All of them."

He shuddered. "Yet, they took her. And for what purpose? Do they know she is my daughter? Do they torture her to assail me? Should I give myself up to them, in exchange for her? Would such a thing be possible?" He lifted his head as he felt a glimmer of hope wash over him. "I will offer myself in her stead. They will accept that."

"They will not." 

He screamed again, total frustration wringing his despair into sound. "Then what am I to do?"

"You will go to Elrond and comfort him. You will wait for Elladan and Elrohir to bring her home and then we will rejoice."

"How can I bring him comfort when my own heart is torn asunder?"

"You will be strong, as you were in _Doriath_. As you were at the Dagorlad. As you are now."

"You will accompany me?"

"My trunk is packed, as is yours. My horse is saddled, as is yours. I wait upon my Lord."

He drew her closer to him, moved his face through her golden locks, and wept. Finally, straightening, he stood, offered his hand to hers, and drew her up. "Let us away from here. Let us to our daughter's husband. To give him comfort and support."

He felt the smile that graced her lips, but none would pass his own.

~*~

Elrond stood at the lip of his balcony, his slippered feet barely holding the last bit of wood. His face was dark, for rage was ever present. He railed once again as Erestor listened, mouth tight shut. 

"He should have sent a full company with her. Did he not receive the reports that the pass had become _Yrch_ -infested? Where was his sense? That great lord of _Doriath_. Fool I call him!"

Erestor remained silent, knowing full well letting his lord rant was the wisest course, for the nonce.

"Galadriel has the mirror. Why did she not use it to find a safe path for my _sell_? Why does she not use it now to find her?"

Again, his seneschal remained silent.

"He is thrice a fool. How many warriors has he sent forth in the search? None! _NU'umeta Nosta._ "

At this, Erestor cringed, but still kept silent.

"Speak!"

"Naught I can say will bring her back. Your railing against the Lord of Lórien works to no good purpose. I am glad we are alone. Though if you raise your voice any louder, the entire valley will hear."

Elrond clutched the railing tighter. "I do not care who hears."

"Would you want Celebrían to hear such language?"

"I would have her hear anything," the Lord of Imladris sobbed, "if only she stood by my side."

"She will. Your sons will not leave her to..."

"To torture and torment. That is what you left unsaid."

"She may have escaped. May be hiding in the gullies and scrub of the mountains."

"Nay. We both know she is prisoner." He shuddered. "Would that I were out with the patrols, searching for her."

"You searched the first week of her disappearance. Searched the site thoroughly. You are needed here to serve as anchor for our patrols."

"You could be anchor, Erestor."

"I would, if you would allow me. But, if you remember, when you returned from the search, you expressly forbade me to do more than run the household."

"I am sorry. I was distraught."

"There is naught to be sorry about, my Lord. It was a wise decision. You should be the counterpoint. It gives our people hope to see you here, leading the effort."

"Hope." Another sob. "I have no hope."

"You have two warrior sons who love their _Naneth_ and will do everything in their power and skill to find her. She will be found, Elrond. You know they will find her."

"I am sorry to disturb you, _Adar_." He turned as Arwen stepped onto the balcony. "I just wanted to know if you have heard aught?"

He took his Evenstar into his arms and held her close. "There is no news as of yet. Your brothers will bring her home soon."

"Thank you. I will leave you to your business. If you should hear anything," her sweet voice broke.

"Stay here another moment. Erestor is leaving me. We have finished our work."

His counselor nodded, kissed Arwen on the forehead, and withdrew.

"Come and sit with me. I am weary for I think I have stood most of this day."

Once seated upon the cushioned settle that overlooked Celebrían's gardens, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly. "Tell me. What have you been about this day?"

She sobbed, a little half-sob, and buried her face in his tunic. "Naught. I weeded _Naneth's_ rose garden. It has been... I did not want her to see it in such a sad state."

"Ah, _melda_ , she will be pleased."

"She will return, _Ada_? She will?"

"She will." He said it with as much enthusiasm and conviction as he could, but he felt her stiffen and knew he had failed.

"I must admit that I am concerned, Arwen; however, she is daughter to Galadriel. She has fire in her blood. She is strong. I sometimes think she is stronger than I am. She will survive this and return to us. Have you no faith in your _muindeir_?"

"I want to be with them. Out in the forests and fields looking for her. Do you not also feel the same, _Ada_? Cannot we go together, to _Caradhras_ , and save her?"

"We cannot. Better scouts and warriors than I am look for her now."

"You mean Glorfindel?"

"I do. But I also mean your _muindeir_. They are the best Imladris has to offer. Even greater than Glorfindel, in this instance, because it is their own _Naneth_ that they search for. This should give us further hope and resolve," he lifted her chin to look deeply into her eyes, "resolve to keep hope. I admit I lose it now and again, but friends such as Erestor and Galdor, and a _sell_ such as you, will help me find it again. We both need to keep our hope firm and strong, Arwen. She will feel it. Your _Naneth_ will feel our strength and it will revive her own."

"Then I will be strong, _Ada_. I will leave you now. The weeds try to o'ertake the elanor. If... when you hear further, you will send someone to fetch me?"

"I will, beloved of my heart. I will come for you myself."

"Thank you, _Ada_." He wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Watching as she walked slowly into the house, he sighed.

"Well done, my Lord." Erestor appeared next to him. "I trust you have found a measure of hope?"

"I have. And I will hold it to my heart."

~*~

Sell - Sindarin for daughter  
Ionnath - Sindarin for sons  
NU'umeta Nosta - bastard (of low birth)  
Melda - Sindarin for beloved  
Muindeir - brothers


	3. Abandoned

The movement stopped. She could not understand anything that was happening to her. It felt as if she was on a litter, but the _Yrch_ would not give her such comfort. She pondered why the movement had started, but now, her body flinched in the imagined reason for its cessation. Where were the _Yrch_ taking her? She had been in the cave an interminable time. They had despoiled her in every way that she could imagine. They had beaten her senseless too many times to remember. They had impaled almost every one of her openings more times than she could count. Beatings and bitings, deprivation of food and water, even clothing, had tormented her ceaselessly. They would not now comfort her. 

Mayhap they tired of her. That thought brought a moments relief, quickly dispelled as two other reasons came to mind. They were going to finally kill her so they were moving her to the place where they cooked their meals. Tears once again flooded her eyes. 'Yet, if I am tonight's meal, then my torment is almost over. Mandos will have to take me.' And then, realization, followed by a deep shuddering, ran through her as the second possibility almost swept her back into oblivion. 'Valar save me! They are taking me to another cave where new beasts will find me not so dull, and they will ravage me anew.' She wailed at the thought, the horror too great.

After many moments, she returned from the gibbering terror that had engulfed her. She tried to still her mind, remember happier moments, held in her husband's arms. The memory of Arwen's birth comforted her for a moment, until she saw _Yrch_ ravaging her little one. 'They have become strong, these _Yrch_. Morgoth's vengeance is upon us. We will all suffer torment and die. Even my own, my beloved Elladan and Elrohir, my precious Arwen. We will all be caught and raped and defiled.' She screamed and screamed but found no sound came from her lips. Or was it the ringing in her ears that took the sound from her? Her body succumbed to the horror. Racked with pain, tormented by evil thoughts, she continued to shudder, whimpering all the while.

At last, exhaustion took her; her shuddering abated. She was weary beyond all endurance. 'I will still my mind, accept the new horror that will soon be upon me, and know that there is no help for me. The Valar have forsaken me, why I do not know; my love has abandoned me. He will know I have been despoiled; therefore, he has probably already released himself from our bond.' That must be the reason no rescuers had come. Elrond wanted naught to do with a _Yrch_ -spitted, beaten _elleth_. 

But her father? Where was Celeborn? Had he too abandoned her as Maedhros had been abandoned by his kin? A low moan escaped her. Out of all the High Elf's brothers, none had even attempted a rescue. A deep pain tore her heart asunder, deeper than the deepest _Orch_ -thrust. It laid her heart bare, and, finally, despair came to her. When the clawed hands touched her nether region, she screamed and swooned, no longer able to battle. Hope lost.

~*~

"We must stop and let her rest. She thrashes and moans. She will further injure herself."

"'Dan, every stop brings her closer to death. She cannot live without healing. _Adar_ 's touch is needed. And soon. Do you not note that her moans weaken, her breath shallows? We must continue the journey."

Elladan stopped his horse. Elrohir's stopped of necessity. The eldest took his brother's hand. "I see the signs, but I believe it is because she is weary. She needs rest. The litter, despite being held off the ground, still sways and jolts her body. She needs rest."

Elrohir made to speak then looked up. He watched as Glorfindel dismounted and walked back to them. Elrohir saw the same deep despair in the golden Elf's eyes as he knew was in his own. He also saw frustration on the High Elf's face. 

"If I may speak? Elrond is now on his way towards us," Glorfindel began. "Let us camp here, though the night is not yet nigh. The journey home, after she has been tended to, will still be strenuous. Let her rest in peace whilst she may. Gain enough strength to continue the journey on the morrow."

Elrohir openly wept. "She needs to be in _Adar_ 's care now."

The golden-haired Elf put his hand on the younger son's shoulder. "She is in your care, Elrohir. That will do for now. Your love will sustain her until your _Adar_ comes."

Elladan took his brother in his arms. "Glorfindel speaks truly. We must begin ministering to her with gentle touches. She will soon recognize that it is not _Yrch_ that touch her, but her beloved _ionnath_."

"Come," Glorfindel motioned and his warriors, those not patrolling the forest in front and behind them, came and helped untie the litter. Glorfindel took off his cloak and placed it on the ground. The litter was laid upon it. The Elves stood back, bowed, and began to pitch their camp.

Their mother had shuddered as she was being lowered but then quieted. "See, 'Ro. She feels comfort at the cessation of movement."

Elrohir stared in anguish, not believing his brother's calm assurances. Once her guard stood back, Elrohir knelt at her side. Gingerly, he took her hand, waiting for some sign of distress, or better yet, recognition as he murmured " _Naneth"_ over and over.

Her covering had slipped off. He moved to replace it and saw, once again, the blood that trailed down her thighs. Blood and other fluids. He bit his lip till it bled, keeping the tortured howl from escaping his constricted lungs.

"Here," Elladan offered a moistened cloth. "Use this."

Elrohir's hands trembled as he took the cloth. 

"Shall I do it?"

"Nay," Elrohir sobbed. "I will." He touched the cloth lightly to her thigh. She screamed. He dropped the cloth and fell back, a small scream leaving his own mouth. Shock and horror once again enveloped him. 

Elladan was at his side immediately. "You were right, 'Ro," tears streamed down the elder's face. "She thinks we are _Yrch_. Stop now."

Elrohir covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly. "Where is _Adar_? We need him here. We need him now."

"I know, 'Ro. He is on his way. He will be here soon" The elder picked up the cloth, chiding himself. 'I should not have let him clean her. It tears him apart.' But his own heart was torn asunder and his hands shook as he cleaned his mother. He refused to look at what he wiped away. "She has swooned, 'Ro. I will continue to clean her. Take your rest. You may watch her after I am through."

"Nay." Elrohir picked himself off the ground, knelt by the litter again, and took her hand. "If she is insensible, then perhaps some part of her will rest at my touch." 

"It is true, 'Ro. Some part of her will know it is you. Hold her close while I clean her. It may counter my movements and give her some measure of comfort."

Elrohir nodded and scooped his mother into his arms. Her eyes remained closed; her body lay limp. Glorfindel offered him a cool, wet cloth. Elrohir looked up, tears in his eyes, and he saw the Balrog-slayer was weeping. "Thank you," he muttered, then turned and carefully wiped the cloth across the bruise under her eye.

"I think it needs stitching."

"It does, but I thought it best to care for her other needs first."

"She will have a scar if you wait much longer." Glorfindel knelt at her side.

"A scar!" Elrohir began to laugh wildly. "A scar! She will have a scar. Do you hear that 'Dan. She will have a scar." His laughter echoed through the forest and the trees swayed in sorrow.

"Stop it, Elrohir!" His brother took his arm and squeezed it tightly. "Stop it."

"A scar," he muttered, desperately trying to swallow the hysterical laughter that bubbled through him. "She will have a scar."

Glorfindel motioned and Elladan took the limp body of his mother into his own arms. The golden Elf took Elrohir's arm and pulled him up. "We need firewood."

"Let someone else fetch it. I must not leave her side." 

"You will come with me and you will help me fetch wood."

Muttering now and again, "A scar, a scar," Elrohir followed his father's friend out into the forest. He could feel the laughter still within him and it frightened him. 'I am losing my mind.' 

Glorfindel stopped by a small creek. He took Elrohir's arm and pulled him forward into the middle of the cold water. The Elf yelped. "What are you doing?"

"Taking the madness from you."

Elrohir sobbed and pitched forward. "If that is all that is needed, then I will immerse myself in this wretched stream."

"Elrohir. Come and sit with me." He helped the youngest son of Elrond stand. They sloshed towards the shore. "Would you like me to build a fire?"

"Nay." The younger Elf sighed. "I cannot remain from her too long." He turned and looked at Glorfindel. "Thank you. I feared I was losing my mind."

"I have felt the same thing. If I may share?"

At Elrohir's nod, the scion of Gondolin began. "It is common knowledge that I fought and defeated a Balrog; however... It was not such a simple thing."

"I know that. You were slain as the Balrog fell."

"I was. But I will tell you, the pain, the unbearable pain during the battle with Morgoth's servant, was unimaginable; more horrible yet was the sight that I beheld before that. The festival had just begun," Elrohir watched as Glorfindel's eyes glazed over; the High Elf was lost in the memory. "The little ones were laughing, there was dancing in the streets, even those on duty smiled as they watched the frolicking. They came from nowhere, screams of hatred filled the squares, mothers threw their children from the burning buildings to save them, but the _Yrch_ gutted them as they fell." Glorfindel swallowed. "Even in the midst of battle lust, I could not keep the sights from horrifying me. At last, when I watched a babe popped, as candy, into the mouth... I felt myself go mad. I could not keep myself from shuddering. I could hardly hold my sword. My mind reeled with horror."

The forest seemed to quiet as the Balrog-slayer sat silent. Elrohir joined the trees in their grief over the tale of the fall of the once mighty city.

Glorfindel composed himself. "I would have gone mad. Except for three things. I saw Tuor, Idril, and Eärendil. I knew they must be saved," the Elf's eyebrow rose. "I knew I could save them. I would have, if not for the Balrog." He turned towards Elrohir, his eyes clear once again, as he placed a ferocious grip on the youngster's shoulder. "I had purpose, Elrohir. It brought me back from the brink of madness. You have purpose. Your _Naneth_ needs you to help save her, to bring her back from the horror she has endured. Her healing is not only in your _Adar_ 's hands. It is in yours. Will you help her? Have you the strength?"


	4. Assessment

Elrond held his hand open and chided himself as he noted his outstretched hand shook. The messenger never spoke a word, except to say the missive was from Glorfindel, but the Elf's face writhed with a deep heart-pain. Elrond raised an eyebrow as he took the message. Not good news. Erestor was on his left, Arwen on his right. She clutched his arm as he received the missive. He thanked the messenger, turned, and led Arwen back into the house. Erestor followed. Not a word was spoken; none had been spoken since first the news that a messenger had arrived raced through the vale. It seemed all of Imladris had come together in silence; they waited in silence. As Elrond walked past them to his study, they bowed, offering silent support and comfort. The Lord of Imladris heard a stifled sob now and again. He only nodded as he walked past them. Arwen, he noted, looked neither left nor right. He knew Erestor was behind him.

Arwen sat in the chair directly opposite his desk, folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him with expectant eyes. Elrond found, at that moment, that he had no hope. He did not sit. He stood, facing the fireplace, and took a deep breath. The day of Gil-galad's death came to mind. He saw his king before him on the blood-spattered mountain. The image was as clear as if he stood at the Dagorlad at that very instant. He choked as he looked upon the lifeless eyes that stared into the blackened sky above them. Elrond had never felt such despair, such sorrow - until this day.

"She is not dead," Erestor whispered in his ear, and Elrond startled, surprised at the prescience of his friend. It was as if Erestor had read his mind. "You would know. You would feel it."

The Lord of Imladris nodded, broke the seal, and opened the note. The missive was vague, stating only that Celebrían had been found alive and his services were needed immediately. The only clue he had as to her state was the mention of _athelas_ and wound tinctures and salves in the list of supplies needed. 

He exhaled the breath he had not known he'd held. He walked to Arwen's side and knelt beside her chair. "Your _Naneth_ lives. She is hurt. I know not the extent of her injuries, but I have been summoned to her side." His daughter stifled a sob and nodded. He was always amazed at her composure. Even in the midst of disaster, even though she had grown into adult hood in the shelter of Celeborn's woods, still, no horror or fear seemed to touch her. Elrond took her hands in his. "We will need new clothes for her and blankets. Will you see to that?" She nodded, rose, and kissed him. Without a word, she left them.

He turned to his counselor. "She is as strong and hard as mithril."

"Yet as gentle and pliable as a willow branch. I think she could survive anything," Erestor offered. "She is her _Naneth_ 's daughter."

Elrond's face clouded. "I never saw that strength in Celebrían." His voice shook. "The gentleness, yes, but not the strength. She will need it."

"You will be her strength. Come you and rest whilst the supplies are prepared and the horses readied. I will order the troop. Who would you have accompany you?"

"Chose them yourself, but make the company large. And have a proper litter prepared. The Valar only know what they have juryrigged in the wild."

"Elladan and Elrohir are resourceful. Whatever was needed was made." 

"Yes," Elrond strode from the room, calling to Erestor to follow. Within moments they reached the apothecary. Erestor helped him with the medical supplies. Elrond would let none other assemble the needed materials. He had to stop, every now and again, to steady himself. To gather what was possibly needed, he had to consider the injuries; the imagined torture of his beloved Celebrían weakened him to the point of near collapse. Erestor did not seem to notice: methodical as ever, he pulled bottles, salves, tinctures, and herbs from the shelves and placed them into a large basket. If the circumstances had been different, if what they gathered were not for the Silver Lady of Imladris, they both would have found it amusing as Erestor muttered absently to himself. Amusement was far from their thoughts this day.

When their work was completed and the basket had been given off to place on the packhorse, Erestor turned to Elrond. "Will you not rest for at least an hour?"

"Nay. We leave within the hour. Tell your captains to be ready. I go to Arwen to finish the preparations and then we leave."

~*~

"We take two hundred with us. I will not tempt fate again." Celeborn's face was hard. He could feel the muscles drawn taut across his forehead and on his cheeks. His lips had fused into a small, thin line, tight with deep pain. 

Galadriel nodded to him in acceptance and he watched as she sent for Haldir. The Elf-warden for the northern borders appeared within moments. "Are your troops ready?" she asked him.

"They are, my Lady. The packhorses are ready also. I deemed it best to have two hundred of our best ready for this march. Is that acceptable?"

Celeborn mounted. "No further delay then. Let us be off." 

They rode straight and true, with no rests taken, except for the few times their horses required it. They ate astride their mounts. The Silver Elf noted that the horses seemed to be in as much of a hurry as he was. At each forced stop, his own mount rested and drank but little before he began to stomp and whinny. Celeborn's heart clenched in heartfelt wonder at these moments, as the realization of his beloved Mithrellas' loyalty filled him. 

Halfway to the Pass, a rider hailed them. He offered Celeborn a pouch. As he opened the missive, Celeborn's hands shook. It was from Elladan. She had been found. She was alive. His short moment of joy and triumph over the evil that had taken her quickly turned into one of fear. The note was terse, but stated Elladan thought his grandfather should come as quickly as possible, not to Imladris, but to the Caradhras Pass. Celebrían was too weak to travel.

Celeborn thrust the missive into his tunic and waved the band forward. The messenger joined the group. He felt Galadriel at his side, waiting for some news, but his heart was so shaken by the feeling of despair that had assailed it the moment he had opened the note, that he dared not speak. As ever, she waited upon him. 

For days they rode until at last they were across the Pass. Haldir motioned and the company spread out, searching for Elladan and Elrohir's encampment. A soft whistle and Celeborn stiffened. They had arrived. 

It was Glorfindel who met them. Celeborn raised an eyebrow in surprise but dismounted and followed Elrond's seneschal. He motioned and Haldir stepped in front of Galadriel, effectively blocking her. "Stay," Celeborn whispered. 'Oh, she will be angry with me, but I must see my _sell_ first.' He knew he was being foolish; his grandsons would have cleaned her and dressed her wounds. It would not be too difficult to look upon her. He choked at the thought. Glorfindel stopped, never looking at him, and waited. When Celeborn had recovered, he moved forward. 

She lay on a pallet that rested upon a cloak. Elrohir held her hands. He could not see Elladan, but knew the boy was somewhere close by. Glorfindel touched the younger _ellon_ on the shoulder and Celeborn started at a face so totally changed from the last time he had seen his grandson. Tear marks covered his face; his eyes were shadowed; his mouth was twisted with pain. 

Elrohir kissed his mother's hand, then stood and ran to Celeborn, embracing him fiercely and sobbing uncontrollably. 

"Sh. She will be well. Let me see to her."

"Nay. You must not look upon her. She will not let us touch her. She still has blood... and such upon her. You cannot look."

"She is my _sell_ , Elrohir. Step aside and let me go to her."

Glorfindel reached out and took Elrohir, physically, from his grandfather. Celeborn nodded his thanks and walked forward. He closed his eyes for a moment as he stood over the litter, then he knelt and looked fully upon her. 

"Ah," he whispered as tears fell. "Beloved. How you have suffered." He bowed his head and wept. Finally, he felt Elladan kneeling next to him. "You have done well, Elladan. You have rescued her."

"I know not if it is in time, _Adadhron_. She will not wake. She screams if we touch her. Elrohir tried to clean her a bit, but she wails and thrashes. We have been afraid we would hurt her if we continued."

"You did well." He splayed his fingers before him, then took a deep breath. "Is Elrond coming?"

"We sent a messenger. He should be here shortly."

"Good. Help me list her wounds. When he comes, it will enable him to decide what is the best treatment for her."

The _ellon_ nodded. Glorfindel stepped up to him. "If I may, I will write the wounds down."

Celeborn nodded, then turned his attention to Celebrían. Another deep breath, a bitten lip, and he began. He started with her scalp, listing the torn pieces of skin, the burn wounds, the bite marks. Then he called out the wounds upon her face and her... ears. She had almost none left. What remained of her beautiful, ethereal ears was detailed. "What is left of them is quite swollen. She must have been hit or the ears boxed many times. I wonder if she can hear."

"As often as we spoke to her, _Adadhron_ , she gave no notice that she heard. I thought it was that she did not understand, but I think you must be right. She is deaf." His voice broke on the last word. 

By this time, Elrohir had returned to his vigil, holding his mother's hand in his own across from Celeborn. He spoke not a word, but wept quietly.

"Her nose is broken. What is this? Ai, they have stuffed it with mud so that she can only breathe with her mouth." He swallowed, cleaned the nostrils out as best he could, then continued his assessment. "The cut on her forehead must be stitched, but it is not infected, not yet. This one under her eye is in need of stitches also. You say she has not opened her eyes?"

"Nay."

He pulled the right eye's lid up and fell back in horror. Elrohir screamed, as did Elladan. He shook his head, pulled himself together again, and lifted it once more. The eyes were engulfed in blood. Not a bit of the white of the eye could be seen. He took Elrohir's hand in his own. "It is terrible to look upon, but it is only the little paths of the natural blood in the eyes that are broken. They will heal. It is difficult to look upon." He splayed his fingers again. "Hold her hand again, Elrohir. I am sure it gives her comfort."

"Now, let us continue. Her lip is bitten. It will need stitching here and here. Her neck is strangely bereft of bruises." He lifted the blanket and gasped. "Her breasts are in need of much sewing," he whispered. "The nubs are gone. She does not need them any longer. Elrond and she planned for no more children. She will not need them for suckling." Tears began to course down his face once again. "The stomach is free from cuts, but it seems bruised. She may have bleeding inside. Write that down, Glorfindel. Her right arm is broken in two places. See how the bone protrudes here. Her right hand is crushed. They must have stepped on it. Her left wrist is broken, but the hand is intact. There are chains?"

"We did not take them off yet. We have no tools here. _Adar_ should be bringing some with him. I requested smithy tools." 

'She will bear scars like unto Maedhros.' Celeborn remembered seeing the red-haired Elf's wrist, one time, and shuddered at the story behind the chains of Morgoth. 

Elladan offered him a drink.

Celeborn knelt back on his haunches and gratefully accepted the flask of water. He drank for a moment, steeling himself for the next part. The part he knew would destroy him. 

"Elrohir, go to your _Nanadhril_. See if she needs anything. She should not be alone."

"Nay, _Adadhron_. I have cleaned _Naneth_ in those places you will now inspect. I have seen everything. You need not protect me."

"She will be sad to know you have seen the violation. She will wish you had been spared this."

Elrohir clutched Celebrían's hand tighter. "It could not be helped," he choked out. "She was naked when we found her."

Celeborn replaced the blanket on the upper part of Celebrían's body and moved the blanket from her hips. Her opening was torn. He doubted it could ever be sewn back into some semblance of normalcy. He moved the lips back and discovered that the organ for urinating was still intact. 'A small blessing.' He parted her legs, grimacing at the claw marks on the inner thighs. Deep gouges encompassed her genitals. Though Elrohir had claimed he had washed her, the area was still covered in blood and... He closed his eyes for a moment. 'and seed. Why am I surprised? Why am I shocked?' He bit his lip and touched her nether hole. It was twice the size it should have been. Blood still slowly dripped from it. "She will need to be sewed inside also. Write that down, Glorfindel."

He draped the cloth over her. "The left leg is broken in three places and the knee is pulled from its socket. The right leg has a break right at the calf and the foot is smashed." He moved to inspect her feet and discovered the bottoms were raw. "She must have been forced to walk a long way barefoot. Write that down, Glorfindel." He finally broke. Starting to sob, he turned from her. "Cover her and see if she will take some water," he managed to choke out. 

Elladan held his hand and helped him stand. "Take a breath, _Adadhron_."

Celeborn nodded, but found his throat choked with grief and horror. He tried to swallow but to no avail. Elladan handed him the flask again and he managed a few sips. "Thank you. How do we keep this from your _Nanadhril_?"

"We do not. She has probably seen it in her mirror."

He nodded in surprise. "She told me she could not see her, but she could," he whispered. "She was protecting me."

"She does that sometimes," Elladan smiled through his own tears. "But she cannot protect us from everything."

"Nay. She cannot. Stay with your _Naneth_ , Elladan. I will go to her."

Glorfindel stepped in front of the Lórien Elf. "There is a fire and food. Bring her to it. The company will move away so you may have some privacy."

"Thank you." 

Glorfindel walked with him to where Galadriel sat. "My Lady, would you follow me?"

She nodded as Celeborn's arms enfolded her. The forest lay silent and still. None of the warriors came close. They all stood back in respectful silence. At last, Galadriel controlled herself. "She is strong; she will survive, with our love and the love of Elrond and her children. She will walk again in the Golden Wood and pick the elanor and laugh."

"Of course she will."

~*~

A/N - 1) Troop - [Origin: 1535-45; < F troupe, OF trope, prob. back formation from tropel herd, flock (F troupeau), equiv. to trop- (< Gmc; see [thorp](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=thorp)) + -el « L -ellus dim. suffix ]  <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/troop>.  2) Jury rig, emphasizes the temporary nature of a solution, and can imply an ingenious solution done with materials at hand. The origin of jury rig is nautical and dates to 1788. It is from the nautical term jury mast. This term dates to at least 1616 and refers to a temporary mast erected to hold sail when the normal mast has been lost due to storm or battle. <http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/9245>. Another source has this phrase date from the early 1600's. <http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-jur1.htm>. Some spellings have this as a hyphenated word, however the Encyclopedia Britannica keeps it as one word, which is what I have done here (though Word spell check does not recognize that.)  3) Apothecary as storehouse - A*poth"e*ca*ry\, n.; pl. [Apothecaries](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Apothecaries). [OE. apotecarie, fr. LL. apothecarius, fr. L. apotheca storehouse, Gr. apo, fr. ? to put away; ? from + ? to put: cf. F. apothicaire, OF. apotecaire. See [Thesis](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Thesis).] [Origin: 1325-75; ME (< OF) < ML apothécarius seller of spices and drugs, LL: shopkeeper, equiv. to L apothéc(a) shop, storehouse (< Gk apoth ké; see [apo-](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=apo-), [theca](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=theca)) + -arius [-ary](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=-ary) ] <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/apothecary>  4) Grandfather/grandmother - there seems to be a controversy over what would have been the Sindarin term for this. I found one a long time ago, and have used it often, so I chose to continue with that use. I hope this did not 'pull' anyone from the tale, but if it is an error, then Tolkien is to blame. The term I use is Adadhron/Nanadhril.


	5. Grief and Guilt

Elrohir looked at his brother in surprise. "He barely touched her. Just gave the list and left." The younger Elf gulped. "I do not understand."

"He is in shock, 'Ro. Give him a moment."

The younger shook his head and held his mother a bit tighter. "He should hold her," he sobbed. "It might help her."

"Listing difficult things can be beneficial in the first shock of horror," Glorfindel stepped next to Elrohir and touched his shoulder. "This is his only child, his precious _sell_. You have been with her for three days. You have grown accustomed to her hurts. He has not."

"I have not grown accustomed! I shudder... We should not be discussing this with her in my arms. She needs peace. Leave me be."

"Elladan. Take your brother's place." The Elf-lord's tone was harsh. Elladan nodded and took his mother in his arms. Elrohir stood up; defiance shimmered off him, but he followed as the Balrog-slayer led him away from the camp.

"You have become too old for this type of behavior. It is unseemly."

Elrohir bit his lip to stifle the retort that was dangerously close to insubordination. As much as he was friend to the golden Elf, Glorfindel also commanded him. "I do not... Is it seemly for an _Adar_ to ignore his own _sell_?"

"Do you think he ignores your _Naneth_? Look at him."

Elrohir refused, not aloud, but he did not turn towards his _Adadhron_. 

"I said," Glorfindel's tone was cold and hard, "look at him."

The younger Elf gasped. Celeborn's shoulders shook as Galadriel held him close. "I.... I did not know."

"Of course you did not. You were being righteous, judgmental. Has your _Adadhron_ ever judged you?"

"Nay," Elrohir began to moan. "Never. 

"Then why must you judge him? There is something else here. Something I know not. What is it? You have done naught that needs exoneration, so allow yourself to feel the pain and sorrow over your _Naneth_ 's state, but do not blame your _Adadhron_... Ah, I see now. You blame yourself."

"We were to go with her."

"I know."

"Elladan wanted to go, but there was a tournament that I wanted to be part of." Tears slipped down the Elf's cheeks. "I begged _Adar_ to let us stay. We should have been with her."

"You would now be dead. The attack was swift and clean. You have seen the site yourself. None lived that the _Yrch_ did not want to live."

Elrohir remained silent. On impulse, Glorfindel drew him close. "Many long years have passed since you needed comfort, my friend. Allow me to give it to you." He embraced Elrohir and held him close, allowing the Elf to release the pain and guilt of the last months. At last, Elrohir's sobs quieted. "Now. Go to your _Adadhron_ and help him."

"I will. Once again, I thank you, Glorfindel."

He walked purposefully towards the place where Celeborn and Galadriel sat. She looked up at him and smiled sadly. 

" _Adadhron_ ," he whispered. "Would you like to hold her?"

Celeborn looked up at his grandson. "I am afraid."

"Oh! _Adadhron_. I will help you. She needs you."

Celeborn nodded, kissed Galadriel, and walked with Elrohir to the waiting Elladan. His elder grandson looked up, nodded, and handed his mother to his grandfather after the Elf had knelt. Celeborn's eyes brimmed with tears. He stroked her forehead and the little wisps of hair left to her and sobbed quietly. Elladan and Elrohir sat next to him. Gently they sang a healing song as Celeborn rocked her.

~*~

Eighteen hours after the missive was placed in Elrond's hands, he found himself only two hours from the entrance to the Caradhras Pass. To think it took them three months to find her, and her so close to the very spot she had been taken. Cold sweat covered his brow, unusual, but reflective of the cold horror that continuously clutched at his heart. 

He heard the shout and his heart rose in hope. The campsite was just ahead. Pulling his shoulders back, he rode forward, Galdor at his side. The sight that greeted him should have warmed his heart, but his anger at Celeborn flared. He took a few deep breaths, then dismounted and walked towards the little party. None noticed him, except for his seneschal. 

Glorfindel strode forward. "My Lord Elrond, your coming is most propitious. Celebrían lives but her _fëa_ grows weaker by the minute. I..." He stopped in consternation. "Your anger is directed towards whom?"

Elrond tore his eyes from the body of his wife and looked at Glorfindel in surprise. "My anger?"

"It flows from you as the waters of the Bruinen. Do you fault your _ionnath_ for the untimely rescue?"

Another deep breath. "Nay." He shivered. "My anger is at her _Adar_. It is a little thing though. This moment should be directed towards her, towards helping her recover. I am glad you noted my anger. It will be put aside until she is back in Imladris." He stepped forward and knelt at her side. 

Elladan and Elrohir sobbed in joy. " _Adar_ , you have come. We need you so desperately. She will not wake." Elrond's focus was on her, the wounds he saw, and the ones he knew were hidden by the blankets surrounding her. 

" _Adadhron_ has made a listing of her wounds. Glorfindel, give it to _Adar_." 

Surprised, Elrond took it and gave it a cursory glance. Wounds he had already imagined were on the list and some he had not. They had had her for three months. Somehow, he had not expected her to survive. Now that he saw the list, he was confounded by her courage, by the fact that she yet lived.

Celeborn looked at him as the Lord of Imladris tried to take her from his arms. Pure hatred flowed between the two. Elladan put his hand on Celeborn's arm and whispered, "Please, let _Adar_ hold her."

He nodded and handed his precious child over to the one who had let her come on such a foolish journey, the one who was responsible for her capture and torture. He sat back and watched, fury slowly abating at the actions of Gil-galad's herald. Tears misted his eyes as the great Elf-lord stroked her barely non-existent hair, cupped her chin in his hand, glided his fingers over her lips. Such a look of love, pain, and utter grief covered that great face that Celeborn could do naught but yield to the love he saw. He had forgotten, in his anger, why he had allowed his daughter to marry the _Peredhel_. 

At last, Elrond looked up. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the weeping Lord of Lórien. "We both love her very much," he whispered.

Celeborn nodded. "I needed some time to accept what happened to her - hence, the list. I could not bear looking upon her."

"Well I understand. Give me the list again, Elladan. Elrohir, would you go to the packhorse and fetch my bag? Galdor knows where it is."

"Yes, _Adar_." The younger stood and ran to the horses, just now being unloaded. 

"How much did he see, Elladan? How much did you see?"

"Everything. Elrohir cleansed her body." The eldest son bit his lip. "She was despoiled, _Adar_. I know not how many times. She will need much sewing." His son's tears fell as he spoke. 

"And you both will need healing as well."

"Nay. Only revenge. It will be bitter and sweet, but we will have our revenge." Elladan's eyes blackened, his voice turned fell.

Elrond had seen such a look before. He shuddered. It was the same look he had seen upon the face of Maedhros. The High-elf had come to Maglor's to visit his brother. Elros and Elrond had been there. They both had cried out when he stepped into the room. His hand was gone, the stub wrapped in black cloth, but it was not that sight that frightened the young Elves, it was the look in Maedhros' eyes. Elrond had never forgotten it, and now, sadly, he saw the same look in his own son's eyes. 

"We will speak of these things when we return to Imladris. Glorfindel, take Elladan and Elrohir hunting. I would have a hearty broth made of red meat. There are deer in these mountains. Find one and bring it here. As soon as you can."

Glorfindel nodded. Elladan and Elrohir balked, but Celeborn stood and admonished them to obey their father. They finally left with the Balrog-slayer. 

"That was wise. They should not be here whilst you minister to her."

"It is for their own good. As well as mine. I do not know how I would sew her, knowing they were watching. Will you attend me?"

"I will." Celeborn stood and ordered hot water and towels brought to them. As he waited, he laid a clean cloth upon the ground, opened Elrond's kit, and spread the contents out before him. "What have you need of first?"

"These must be put into a bowl and hot water poured upon them. We will use the mix as an anti-putrefaction to cleanse the wounds."

The mix prepared, Elrond set to work. Celeborn removed the upper portion of the blanket and they began with Celebrían's scalp. A mixture of _athelas_ boiled nearby, its sweet scent keeping darkness from the two. After her head was thoroughly cleansed, Elrond gave Celeborn a vial. "This is to help the burns. Lather it liberally on each one. I have three large lacerations to sew."

Celeborn gulped. "Will her hair grow back?"

"It will. Though I am not sure if it will be silver. Sometimes, after such trauma, the hair whitens."

"It matters not. As long as it covers the scars and burns."

"It will. That I promise. Now, let us attend to her ears." He choked on the words. "The tips... I cannot replace them."

"Nay. I can understand that. But at least, if they could be sewn together." He wanted to retch, but leaned over and took a great whiff of the _athelas_. Then, Celeborn turned back to his daughter's face. 

Working for over an hour on each ear, Elrond finally sat back and took a deep breath. "That is the best I can do. When the swelling goes down, they will look better."

"My Lords." They both stood as Galadriel neared them. "You must take a rest and eat. I will hold her, for the time."

There was no gainsaying the tone in the Lady of Lórien's voice. Celeborn kissed Galadriel's forehead after she had kissed Elrond's. Then, she knelt and took her daughter in her arms. Both Elves left her and went to the fire.

"Ah, my little one," she whispered. "What have they done to you? If I could take your place... My sweet little one." Tears had not fallen at Alqualondë, nor at the Helcaraxë, but here, this day, tears fell. The trees swayed in mute sympathy and understanding. She knew Celeborn watched her, so she kept her shoulders stiff, but her _fëa_ suffered untold agony. 

"All will be well; your husband's love will help his hands heal you. Did you know your _Adar_ watches over Elrond's hands? They are working together. Yes, the Valar themselves will be surprised to know it, but they are working together to heal you. Your Elf-lord is quite the healer. You know you have been seriously wounded? Well, he will not allow you to suffer overmuch. He has _athelas_ simmering and salves and such. You know the great stock he puts in his apothecary. He has brought almost every item stored there. To help you." 

She watched Celebrían's face for some sign of recognition, and found herself sighing as she tried to probe her daughter for some sign of awareness. "Ah, my sweet one. I suppose it is best that you not awaken. At least for another while. Elrond has a few more things that must needs be sewn. Though he has medicaments to deaden the pain, it would not deaden your horror if you were awake. So sleep, my little one, and dream of the Golden Wood and your _Adar_ 's love. Mine too, my sweet one," she sobbed, clenched her teeth to prevent her body from betraying her, and hummed a little lullaby. 

Celeborn was at her side, holding her tightly to him. "She will be well and will sing again in the Golden Wood."

She nodded as his gentle touch tore the resolve from her and she let herself grieve. 

~*~

A/N - 1) Antiseptic, IMHO, is too 'modern' a term to use as it was only coined around 1750. Therefore, I used anti-putrefaction. [Origin: 1350-1400; ME < LL putrefaction- (s. of putrefactio) a rotting, equiv. to L putrefact(us) (ptp. of putrefacere to [putrefy](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=putrefy)) + -ion- [-ion](http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=-ion) ]  <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/putrefaction>; 2) There seems to be no set time known that Celebrían was held captive. I've made it a few months, though I personally wonder how on earth she would have survived that long. And how on earth it was that the twins did not find her for so long. Yet, it seems, IMHO, plausible. For her to abandon all she loved and leave Middle-earth, she must have endured a great deal of pain and torture over an extended period of time. She was attacked in 2509 and left Middle-earth in 2510. 3) _fëa_ \- akin to the soul or spirit.


	6. Horror to the Nth Degree

"Her arm is severely broken, but it seems to have happened when first she was captured. I will have to break it again." Elrond's teeth clenched as he spoke. 

"She will not feel it, I hope."

"I know. Once it is clean, if you would hold her, then I will break it. After it is realigned, I will sew the skin together. I wonder how it happened?"

"I do not wish to know."

"Yes. You are probably right. Celeborn, hold her now."

The Lord of Lórien nodded, took her gently into his arms, and held her close to his chest. He heard the bone as it snapped and watched as Elrond manipulated the bones back into one. He found he was shaking and tried to breathe in more of the athelas. It was weakening. Galdor stepped to the pot and threw in some more leaves. Celeborn looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Thank you." The Elf nodded.

"There. It is done. Now onto her... Oh! By the Valar. How will I mend these?" He looked up at Celeborn, whose face was white. Though both had seen the state of her breasts before, neither had fully comprehended the damage. Elrond sobbed piteously. 

"I can see nothing I can do to sew these together. The nubs are gone. I will cleanse them and leave them as they are." He rattled off the words to keep sane.

"Can you build nubs for her? She should not be left with open wounds like that."

"What would she need them for? Do you think she will ever let me touch them again! Elbereth!" he screamed. Galdor put his hand on his lord's shoulder.

"She is still female. She will not want to look deformed, even to herself. Do what you can for her, Elrond. Help her."

Elrond did not stir. Soft moans came from him, but his body never moved. At last, Celeborn leaned over. "She has suffered much already. Please, see if you can help her."

Elrond swallowed and pulled another needle from the cloth. His hands shook. Galdor stepped forward and took the needle and thread from him. Only a moment passed and he handed the threaded needle to his lord. 

In the meantime, Celeborn wafted some of the fumes from the athelas towards them. Both of them needed it for this next part. He shuddered, then felt a small peace invade his mind. He grabbed it and held tightly to it; then, he took Elrond's hands and held them. "Do what you can."

Elrond began sewing, pulling up the flesh around the breasts so that it covered the gaping hole. He manipulated the skin in such a way that it folded upon itself. After two hours work, both counterfeit nipples had been shaped and sewn in place. The Lord of Imladris sat back and wept. Galdor knelt and held the Peredhel. 

"When the swelling goes down, you will be glad you did this," her father said. 

"Take some rest, my lord," Galdor said, handing Elrond a flask.

" _Miruvor_." Elrond swallowed a bit and handed the flask to Celeborn. 

"Thank you," Celeborn said and swallowed a sip. He leaned back on his heels. "We have much more to do."

"At least the worst is over with."

Celeborn shivered and threw the flask. "It is not. You have not seen!"

"I have seen... I put it out of my mind." Elrond stood and walked away. 

Galadriel stepped in front of him. " _Ion nín_ ," she whispered, then took him in her arms. 

"I am sorry. I should never have let her visit you without me. I should have gone with her. Will you ever forgive me?"

"Your suffering and sorrow are mine also. There is naught to forgive. Only these things to share and heal from. Has she awakened?"

"Nay. It is better that she does not. Elladan says she thinks we are _Yrch_. If she woke, and felt my hands on her... It would be too much." He wept bitterly. "To know my touch will be an abhorrence to her for ages untold. Elbereth! This is too much."

"Hush, now, Elrond. It is too much for her, but not too much for those who love her. We must be strong," she whispered into his ear. "She needs us strong."

He bowed his head, leaned against her shoulder and sighed. "I am tired."

"You have been healing her for over four hours. Is Celeborn of any help?"

Elrond smiled. "He has been. Though he asks things of me that are difficult to do."

"He puts great store in your powers."

"I know. I best return." He held her tighter. "It is hideous. You know that."

"I do, but you are the only one who can help her now. Be strong, _ion nín_."

He kissed her lightly, then returned to Celebrían's side. "Has she said aught?"

"Nay," Celeborn sighed. "She has not even moved."

"Let us attend to the..."

"My lord," Galdor interrupted. "I have some waybread. Take some before you begin again?"

"Thank you, Galdor. Here, Celeborn, share mine."

"There is enough, my lord, for the both of you."

"Galdor. Get some rest yourself. Has Glorfindel returned?"

"Nay. Glorfindel knew this would take some time. They are probably on the other side of the mountain by now."

"And Elladan and Elrohir are ready to thrash him!" Elrond smiled wanly.

"Let us be about our business," Celeborn said as he ate the last bite of the bread. 

Elrond nodded. "I will fix her leg and the knee first. Her toes are crushed beyond anything I can do. I will straighten them and wrap them."

"Straighten them; then I will wrap them."

"Thank you." They worked for over an hour, each realizing that they put off Celebrían's worst wounds because neither could yet face them.

The knee was tended to, the bones in her leg were rebroken and set, the toes were straightened and wrapped. All that remained was her nether regions. 

"I cannot do this," Elrond whispered.

"You are the only one who can. If I could, I would do it."

"Would you honestly? Would you put your hands into her openings? Would you pull out the filth that is in them?" He gasped. "Would you stretch her enough so that you could see and move about within her to sew her? Would you know that, no matter what you do, what has been done to her will scar her forever? I cannot do this."

"If you do not," Celeborn's voice was harsh, "then you condemn her to death. The wounds will fester. There is foreign material within her that will cause her to rot from within. She will die slowly, screaming in pain. She will curse you with her last breath."

Elrond cursed him. Loudly so that those in the camp stood, some drew their swords. Galadriel walked towards them, but stopped as Elrond crumpled to the ground. 

Celeborn held him. "What can I do to help you?" He motioned for the athelas. Galdor used a cloth to pick up the steaming kettle and brought it to Celeborn's side. "Take some deep breaths. This will help you." He took the flask from Galdor's side and lifted it to Elrond's lips. "Take everything you need to help you do this thing."

Elrond nodded. He could feel power and strength coming from Celeborn himself. The athelas and the _miruvor_ lightened his heart. After a few minutes, he took a steadying breath. "I am ready."

Celeborn did not say a word. He stepped back from Elrond and knelt beside Celebrían. He held the pot close to her. After a moment, he took the flask and let a few drops fall into her slightly opened mouth. Still, she did not stir.

"Why did you do that?"

"Even if she seems insensible, a part of her might know what we are about. I wanted to give her something to sustain her."

"Thank you," the Peredhel whispered. "Now, let us be about this."

They worked for another two hours on her front and another two on her backside. Galdor was instructed to light a torch to help Elrond see into the ruined recesses. Many times, the Lord of Imladris had to stop and take a sip of the Elven drink. 

At last, the last stitch was placed. Elrond sat back on his haunches and sighed. "I have done what I could. I... I do not think I will ever be able to... I think she..."

"Do not think ahead, Elrond. Leave that go until the time comes. There is hope."

The Elven lord shook his head. "Not this time. But I will love her, nonetheless. At least with words and gentle caresses." Tears streamed down his face.

"I will finish this. I will wipe her down and put..."

"You will do nothing of the kind," Galadriel stepped to his side. "I will finish this. I will clean my _sell_ and dress her in the garments I brought with me. You two will go to the river and clean yourselves and then you will sit by the fire and rest. Has anyone seen my _ionnath_? We are ready for supper and no meat is to be found."

Galdor smiled. "Glorfindel asked me to send a message when Lord Elrond had finished. He would not return until the deed was done."

"Wise as ever!" Galadriel smiled as she watched her husband and her son by bond walk towards the river. "Galdor, please go with them. And have a company of Elrond's own watch over them."

"It will be done, my lady. I am heartened to have you here." He bowed and swiftly left her.

Haldir stepped forward, bringing a large pot filled with boiling water. He laid a number of cloths next to the pot and knelt. "If there is anyway I may serve you?"

"Haldir," she whispered. "I need your strength."

"Nay, my lady. You are stronger than Tulkas himself. You need no strength from me, but you have my friendship."

She sighed and began to clean Celebrían's body.

~*~

_Ion nín - my son_


	7. A Gentle Touch

A gentle touch. 'How can this be?' She shuddered at the horror of it. That something gentle should be prelude to pain. Whatever beast now touched her must surely know torture well - for this touch gave her hope and it would be dashed, crushed under the vile tongue that would assail her mouth and the rod that would pierce her. She wept bitterly, for hope had long ago deserted her. Yet, this touch, this gentle touch filled her heart with something akin to lost hope. Her tears turned to sobs as the enormity of her loss flooded her _fëa_.

"Hush, my sweet. I am here for you. You are safe."

'What whispering is this that soothes? No _Orch_ can soothe.' Her ears still rang, but if she squeezed her eyes tight shut, she could almost hear a melodious voice calling to her. Almost, but not quite. 'It is a trick. They now disguise their voices to mimic my _Naneth_ 's.' Her sobs grew louder, choked the breath from her, made her body shiver.

Another gentle touch, this time to her cheek, and she reeled and screamed in terror. 'Please, Elbereth. Ask Badhron to take me now. Please, I can endure this no longer.'

The clawed hand removed itself. She lay still, hoping it would think her swooned, and leave her, but it did not. She could feel it still beside her, though it did not touch her further. Her body betrayed her; she shivered mightily. Another whisper and her brow furrowed. ' _Naneth?_ But it cannot be _Naneth_. I am dead, mayhap, one of the _hröa_ -less. Badhron has not taken me, but neither am I alive to be their sport.' She breathed a sigh of relief. Then screamed again in horror as the hand touched her again. 'Not dead. Not dead,' she cried out. Pain lanced through her - every part of her being felt it, as if a surgeon's knife had been taken to her wounds and scraped and cut and defiled her even further. So that was why they moved her; they brought her to someone who could cut her and yet leave her alive. What sport they must be having. Her body again shivered; this time it would not stop. Her teeth chattered and her body shook. She began to cry again. Never had she felt such pain, such horror, such fear. How she wished she were in her _Ada_ 's arms.

~*~

"Celebrían," he said as gently as he could. He had taken her into his arms when the shaking had become too much for even Galadriel to hold her. "Celebrían, it is _Ada_. I hold you in my arms, my sweet, and kiss your brow. Remember how I kissed you when you were but a wee one? Feel that love, Celebrían, feel it in your heart."

Her eyes flickered; he held his breath.

"It is nothing," Elrond sobbed. "Her eyes have flickered before. It means naught." Nevertheless, Elrond motioned for Galadriel to join them. Only a few steps away, she had watched in horror as her daughter's body continued to shake violently.

As Elrond knelt, Celeborn called again, "Celebrían," while gently kissing her forehead. "All is well now. You can come out from your hiding place."

Elrond stifled a sob. "Would she sometimes hide?"

"As a little one, she would. She loved to play the game. Sometimes, it was difficult to find her and I would become frightened. She always heard it, when fear touched my voice, and she would come forth, giggling and hug me, saying how sorry she was to have frightened me. Celebrían."

" _Ada_."

"By all the Valar!" He held her tighter and she screamed in terror. "Nay, nay, my darling. It is your _Ada_. I am here. You can come out now. Come out and play with me." Tears streamed down the Lord of Lórien's cheeks. "Come out now and hug your _Ada_."

" _Ada_." Her eyes opened, but Celeborn flinched at the blood that coursed through them. The silver-gray of her eyes was lost in the depths of the blood-soaked eyes. He checked the shivering that threatened him and kissed her forehead. "Celebrían," he whispered, choking on the sobs that tried to engulf him, "Celebrían, my own. I am here. Can you see me? Can you hear me?"

She looked at him, puzzlement writ across her face. He nodded and smiled, whispering so that Elrond could hear and understand him. "She cannot hear, but I believe she can see me."

Falling to his knees, the Lord of Imladris watched as his beloved opened her eyes and looked up at her _Adar_. Elrond did not stir, just drank in the sight of her and wished she was in his arms instead. Celeborn kept kissing her forehead and whispering to her. At last, her eyes glazed and she rested, this time, peacefully.

"She will need more drugs. The pain when she wakes will be severe," Elrond said quietly. "I have failed her."

Celeborn wept openly. "Nay. I have failed her"

"We will have no such talk as this," the dulcet tones of the Lady of Lórien brought both men up short. "She sleeps, I see."

"She does, and peacefully. I cannot understand it."

"Her will is strong, _ion nín_ ," Galadriel said quietly. "Now that she knows she has been saved, she will recover."

Celeborn shook his head, but did not speak. Elrond stood and embraced her. "You speak truly. She will heal and we will soon celebrate."

The Lord of Lórien held his daughter close, unsure. 

~*~

"We have felled a fine young doe." Glorfindel stepped forward, taking in the campsite and understanding that there was finally hope. "I am sure all are hungry."

Elladan and Elrohir followed behind him. Their gait was slow and weary. When they saw their family gathered around Celebrían's still form, both cried out in horror and ran forward. Elrond stood and stopped them. "She sleeps. Peacefully. Come and see her for yourselves."

The twins looked down upon their mother and wept. Her eyes were glazed and only partially closed in the embrace of a deep sleep. "Come, _ionnath nín_. Take your rest. Sit by her and watch her and welcome the life that has been returned to us."

Glorfindel stood for a moment, watching the reunion, and smiled tiredly. Elves ran forward and took the doe from his hands and others brought water and cloth for him to lave his face and hands with. Blood stained the front of his tunic, but he cared not; Celebrían was saved and would be healed. 

The night passed quickly. The entire retinue focused on the return to Imladris. As soon as morning came, the horses were prepared; Celebrían was placed into the litter brought from Imladris, and the company, including the Lórien Elves, moved westward. 

The first night, they camped in a small hollow with twice the usual number of pickets set out. Elrond's scouts told of numerous _Yrch_ tracks, but none were found. The second night, the campsite occupied the entire road, for the path ran as a needle through two parts of the mountain. It was difficult riding and they did not travel far both that day nor the next. Signs of trolls were everywhere and none slept well on the fourth night. At last, on the seventh night, they camped above Imladris, only ten leagues from the hidden vale. Though all had hoped to finally be done with the march, Celebrían was not healing as quickly as Elrond had thought and they rested for the night, still upon the road.

~*~

Arwen stood on the steps of the Last Homely House and watched as Elves carried her mother towards her. Elrohir had ridden ahead and warned her they were coming. She ordered preparations in the healing ward and then ran to stand next to her brother as the entourage stepped into the glade in front of Elrond's home. 

"She..." Elrohir started, then stopped. "Arwen, her face is... She has no hair..."

"Peace, 'Ro. I can only imagine how she must look, but speak no further on it. I will..." she shivered. "I will be able to stand it, I promise."

"I know you will, _tithen_ _gwanun_. If you need to, cling to me."

She nodded as Elrond strode forward and embraced her; then her father took her arm and brought her next to the litter. Clenching her teeth at the sight of the bruised face and the near hairless head, Arwen bent and kissed the lips that had oft kissed hers. " _Nana_ , welcome home." She stepped back and the guard took the litter, and her mother, into the house and towards the healing ward. Elrond hugged her, whispered, "Thank you," and quickly followed the litter. Celeborn and Galadriel stepped forward and embraced her. Celeborn then followed after Elrond. Galadriel did not let her go; she held her tightly and whispered. "I would love a small cordial. I believe you need one too." Arwen's shoulders shook as grief overcame her. 

"She will live, your _Adar_ tells me. Let us look to her wardrobe and find some nice things for her to wear whilst she heals in the ward. She will not be happy wearing one of those Valar-awful gowns the healers apportion out."

Arwen stifled a giggle and hiccupped. "There," Galadriel said, "that is better. Lead me to your _Nana's_ room and let us see what we can find." 

At Galadriel's gentle touch, Arwen sighed. "I am very glad you came."

~*~

_Tithen gwanun. - little sister  
Hroa - body  
_ _Gentle reminder: The[Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) equivalent of _Námo_ is _Badhron_. Námo was more commonly known as **Mandos** ([Q](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Quenya): "Prison-fortress"), which is more correctly the name of his dwelling. The [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) name for _Mandos_ is _Bannoth_.  2) In [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin), the equivalents to _Vala_ and _Valar__ would be **Balan** and **Belain** , respectively.  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mandos>  and Valar...


	8. Lullabies

She kept her eyes closed as her mind wandered, trying to piece together what was happening to her. She had dreamt she was in her father's arms. A small sob escaped her as she thought how real it had seemed. But she was again being poked and prodded and the pain was back with a vengeance. When she felt the clawed hand move towards her chest and her nipples, her eyes flew wide and she screamed with all that was left in her. 

"Forgive me, my Lady, forgive me. I was just going to change your bandages."

Elrond stepped forward and moved Alcardilmë aside. Nodding towards Erestor, he continued to Celebrían's side. Hesitantly, he took her hand in his and whispered, "Fear not, _muin nín_ , my beloved, it is I, your Elrond." Erestor led the healer away, trying to calm the poor _elleth_.

Celebrían's body was stiff, her arms clasped close to her sides, her eyes tight shut, and her jaw clenched. 

"It is I, Celebrían. You are safe and at home." He gently rubbed the fingers in his hand. "Erestor," he whispered when once his friend had returned, "Put more _athelas_ in the pot." Elrond's counselor obeyed then sat on a chair across the room from his Lord and Lady.

" _Ada_?"

"He sleeps now, Celebrían. I will send for him." Erestor rose and left the room. Elrond's heart broke; did she only find comfort...? She blamed him, of that the Lord of Imladris was certain. She blamed him for not keeping her safe, for leaving her in torment for so long, for not rescuing her. He silently cursed every curse he knew as he watched her tears flow. 

At last, she sighed and slept. 

"I know not what keeps her alive." Glorfindel put his hand on Elrond's shoulder. "Forgive me for entering uninvited. You were intent upon her."

"She only speaks her _Ada_ 's name."

The golden-haired Elf remained quiet. 

"I have done all I can to help her. She does not respond."

"She opened her eyes, when first she came here."

"And naught since - not even for her _Adar_. I begin to wonder if she will heal."

"With you as her healer, how could she not?"

"Did you not see the wounds? Did you not understand how she came by them? Not by some gentle touch." Elrond's voice cracked. "It is now a month. She opened her eyes once."

Celeborn entered; he acknowledged Glorfindel, then moved to the bed. "Has she...?" 

The Balrog-slayer nodded a greeting to the Lord of Lórien and left them.

"There has been no change. She called your name just a few moments ago. That is why I sent for you. I had hoped she was awakening. It appears not."

"Get you some rest, Elrond. I will sit by her again. Galadriel has decided she best return to Lórien. The Ring," he explained without apology.

"Of course. She must guard her realm."

"Of course."

They sat silently watching the Lady of Imladris.

Arwen came in after an hour of so had passed and gently persuaded both Elrond and Celeborn to retire for the night. She promised she would sit with Celebrían.

Hesitantly, they agreed. Both Elves kissed the wounded _elleth_ on her forehead and left the room. After a few moments, Arwen sat on the side of the bed and took Celebrían's hand in her own. She began to hum a little lullaby that her mother had oft sung to her. The hand in hers twitched. " _Nana_?"

Poppy-glazed eyes looked at her. "Arwen?" The moan that followed was pitiful. "They have taken you also? Oh Arwen. If we can find a knife, I will kill you. You will not have to endure their torment. Then, perhaps, I will have the courage to end my own life." She choked. Her throat hurt terribly. 'Ah!' She remembered the reason and began to choke further, trying to cough up the horror and taste of 'them.' Tightly squeezing her eyes shut, she sobbed. "Arwen," she clutched her daughter's hand, "do everything they tell you. It is best. They do hideous things to you, but if you fight them.... Oh Arwen! I would spare you this," she wept piteously. "Oh Arwen!" Sobs wracked her body.

Arwen took her mother into her arms in horror and tried to assuage her fears, but naught that she said could break through the terror that had overtaken Celebrían. " _Nana_ ," she tried for the tenth time, "Please, _Nana_. Everything is all right. I am safe. You are safe. You are home in Imladris. _Adar_ is here as are _Adadhron_ and _Nanadhril_. You are safe." Nothing she said was heard; her mother kept on weeping and railing about the tortures she endured. Arwen became distraught, for her mother's _fëa_ seemed to be slipping away in the terror of her memories. She called out loudly, but no one came to help her. At last, in utter despair, the young _elleth_ lowered her mother back onto the bed and ran from the room screaming to the empty hall for anyone to help her. Within moments, Glorfindel was at her side. 

" _Ada_ , we need _Ada_!"

The Balrog-slayer watched in horror as Celebrían thrashed about the bed. "I will bring him. Go back to her."

Arwen nodded and ran back to her mother's side. She took a cup that sat on the sideboard and tried to urge her mother to drink the _athelas_ tea, but Celebrían screamed that it was poison and almost fell from the bed as she struggled to move far from the creature that tormented her.

Arwen took her by the arms and held her tightly. " _Nana_. It is I, Arwen. You are in Imladris. You are safe. I am safe. Open your eyes, please, and see that what I say is true." Celebrían thrashed still and Arwen brought her mother to her and held her gently, weeping in despair. 

"Arwen?" A heavy sigh followed. "Arwen?"

"Yes, _Nana_ , it is I. Would you like some tea?" Arwen tried to keep her voice low and calm. "It has honey in it. You will like it."

"Honeyed tea," her mother sighed again. "You will join me?"

"Of course, _Nana_. And then we shall listen to some music. Would you like Lindir to play for us?"

"Oh! That would be most pleasant." Her eyes still remained closed, but Arwen noted Celebrían seemed calmer. 

"A dream you know."

"What is, _Nana_?"

"This. I am dreaming you are by my side, offering me tea, holding me close to you." The Lady of Imladris choked. "But it is only a dream. I am still in the cave. They will come again soon." Her voice became strident and her breathing grew frantic. "They are coming, Arwen. You must go. Even though a dream, they may touch you somehow. Defile you. Or my memory of you. Yes, that is their ploy. They want to defile my memories. Oh Arwen! Go away now. Please."

" _Nana_ ," Arwen kept her voice low and firm. "I am not a dream. I am in no cave. I am in the healing ward of _Adar's_ house and you are in my arms and we are holding each other. And this is, indeed tea, though I would have liked to have some cakes with it. But we are having tea together." 

Glorfindel entered the room and whispered, "Your _Adar_ will be here in a moment."

"Ask Lindir to come here with his harp. Quietly, so not to frighten her."

The Elf nodded and quickly left. The next moment, Elrond had entered, but stopped as Arwen held a hand up to stay him.

"Tea. Is it spring yet, Arwen? I am tired of the cold." Celebrían shook her head. "Of course it is cold. I am in a cave and they keep me naked so to watch me." She shuddered. "I can not stand seeing their eyes. It is almost worse than their hands raking over me." Her voice began again to tremble and her breathing grew ragged. "I hate their eyes, Arwen. Do not look into their eyes."

Arwen pulled her mother even closer. "Shh. Have another sip of the tea. Would you like a piece of lembas? We could dip it in the tea, like we did when we traveled to _Nanadhril's_. Do you remember our trips to Lórien, _Nana_?"

The _elleth_ shook her head. "I do. Oh!" she almost shrieked. "Returning. We were returning." She shook her head in confusion. "But you were not with us."

"Remember the time we rode to Bree? We stopped along the road and had tea then." Arwen cursed herself silently for bringing up Lórien.

"Yes. The horses were frisky that day, do you remember? We giggled wondering if some animal... Arwen! There were _Yrch_ close by. We barely escaped."

"Nay. Nay, _Nana_ , the trip to Bree was uneventful; we spent it in laughter. You remember how Glorfindel tried to urge us along faster and we deliberately slowed even further. He was nigh beside himself with frustration." Arwen gave a sidewise glance to the _ellon_ and apologized with her eyes. "He did not know we enjoyed the ride too much to be hurried."

Tears slipped from Celebrían's eyes. "I do not remember such a trip."

"Well, then. It is time we went to Bree again. The Hobbits there were delightfully polite. We can go for their Yule feast, if you would like. They decorate the town so wonderfully."

"Yule? Then it is not spring?" Another tear slid down her cheek.

At that moment, Lindir entered with his harp. He had not seen his Lady before this; the sight was difficult for she had lost so much weight she seemed a wraith. He took a deep breath and stilled the shivering that assailed him, sat near the window, and began to pluck the strings, humming gently an old lullaby.

Celebrían's tears flowed, but within moments, she slept.


	9. Abominations Abound

Slowly, the Lady of Imladris grew stronger; she stayed awake longer; began to eat solid food. All of those who lived within the valley of the Last Homely House rejoiced. Galadriel left shortly thereafter, but Celeborn could not be persuaded to join her. Though Celebrían had been moved from the infirmary, he would not leave his daughter too far from him; he was moved to rooms next to Elrond's. The Lord of Imladris felt it only right that Celeborn should be close to his daughter. The pain he saw in the Telerin's face touched him to his depths and he could begrudge his mate's father naught.

Arwen had moved to closer rooms also. She never left Celebrían's side, except when night fell and Elrond gently shooed them both away. He had yet to lie with her, with his Celebrían, but found the settle in the room quite comfortable. He could watch her and she could feel his presence and, he hoped, take some comfort from it, though in truth, he saw only despair in her eyes. 

One morning not long after Celebrían's awakening, after Elrond had gone to his study and Celeborn left to let Arwen attend to her mother's personal needs, Arwen helped her mother to the commode. Her mother seemed particularly weak this day and Arwen could hardly hold her up. As they returned to Celebrían's bed, she noted her mother had difficulty climbing into the bed, even with the help of the footstool that she now needed. Biting her lip, she asked, "How are you feeling today, _Nana_? I had thought we might carry you to the gardens this morning."

Her mother looked at her with the near-vacant gaze that had been her want since she first awoke. "I am tired," and Arwen flinched at the lackluster sound of it. Where was the sweet, musical voice that used to comfort and sustain her in everything she did?

"I would like to... _Ada_ wanted to see you this morning. May I call him?"

"Not yet." Celebrían closed her eyes.

Arwen clenched her hands to her chest as she watched pain flit across her mother's face. "Would you like some tea, _Nana_?"

There was no response. 

She would not panic, she told herself quietly. Slipping away from the bed, she went to the door and sent the guard for Elrond. Tears fell as she walked back to her mother's side. She sat on the chair left for those who ever guarded Celebrían and held her mother's hand. When Elrond entered, she held her finger to her mouth, gently kissed the hand, and placed it on her mother's chest. 

"There is something wrong with her, _Ada_ ," she whispered as Elrond held her. "I know not what, but she is very weak and seems to be in pain."

"Physical pain?"

"Yes. I gave her some _athelas_ tea, but she would not drink."

Squeezing Arwen tightly, he kissed her brow. "Sit by the window and wait. I will see if she will allow me to examine her."

Arwen nodded and walked to the window. She sat as Elrond approached the bed. 

The Lord of Imladris knelt next to Celebrían and took her hand gently in his own. " _Garn nín_?" She did not move. " _Muin nín_?" His brow furrowed. "She is fevered," he whispered but Arwen heard and understood. She ran from the room.

Celeborn entered but a moment later, followed by one of the healers who carried a litter. At the sight, Elrond blanched, but nodded his approval. The two picked her up and placed her in the litter, held taut by the guard and the healer. They walked her slowly to the infirmary. After she was placed upon one of the beds, Elrond motioned and all but Celeborn and Arwen left him.

"What ails her?" Celeborn spoke in muted tones, fear evident upon his face. 

"I know not. It is not her outward wounds, though. They have almost all healed. Something is wrong with her... " 

Celeborn nodded in understanding. Arwen stepped forward and began to undress her mother, gently kissing her and speaking words of comfort. When she was finished, she moved back, weeping openly. Celeborn moved to her side and held her as Elrond stepped forward, bringing a light with him. He sat on a stool and placed his hands upon her nether region. "There is no fever and that is a good thing." Gently, he moved a finger into her depths. Then he added another. She slept, eyes closed. 

Arwen's hands flew to her mouth to cover a horrified cry as she watched her father work so impersonally.

At last, he moved back, took a towel and wiped his hands, and stood, motioning for them to join him in the outer room. "Her womb is broken beyond my skill to heal. It has become dislodged and hangs. It must be removed."

Arwen screamed into her grandfather's shoulder. Celeborn had become as stiff as marble, only his hand moving to stroke his fair granddaughter's hair. He nodded, swallowing hard. "I will help you."

Elrond nodded. "Arwen," he turned in anguish, "please stay out here. I will call you when it is done."

She nodded, miserably, and was left alone.

Elrond called for bandages, salves and such, then walked back into the room. Celeborn followed him, as did an _elleth_ with the supplies. "Leave us," Elrond said as he placed the accoutrements on a side table. The _elleth_ nodded and left.

"I will have to... "

"Just do what has to be done and tell me what you require of me. Otherwise, I will be silent and stand at your side."

The Lord of Imladris nodded, laid his hand upon Celebrían's brow and placed her into a deep sleep, then began his labors.

What seemed as hours passed. At last, Elrond opened the door and motioned for Arwen to enter. "She will be well. As well as can be, knowing she can no longer bear children." His face was ashen, his lips pulled taut in a dark grimace. "I will not tell you more, Arwen. Stay by her. Celeborn and I must speak."

Arwen nodded, kissed her father and sat at her mother's side. Celeborn patted her shoulder and they left.

After the two lords walked through the infirmary and out into the garden, Elrond spoke. "You asked what had happened; I could not bring myself to tell you in her presence. We yet know if one so stricken can hear in the midst of their pain." He turned as they reached a bench. "I think it best if you sit while I tell you what I believe happened and caused this." He took a deep breath, as one who approaches a battle, then looked deeply into Celeborn's eyes and began. "The _Yrch_ thrust their hands, probably up to their elbows, into her womb. Those were claw marks that I showed you before I had the womb taken away to be buried. They must have pulled at her while in her. They tore the fiber that held her together. A damaged womb does not always exhibit signs of abuse at the time of injury. I did examine it, but felt the cuts at the opening were what caused the bleeding. I know not if I refused to believe what further might have been done to her." Tears were slowing falling down Elrond's face. "Sometimes, it takes awhile before the womb falls out." He was shuddering as he spoke. "But that is not why I have asked you to join me. You asked if I had seen anything so heinous before. Have you not wondered about Elladan and Elrohir and where they have been these past weeks?"

Celeborn remained silent, knowing the question was not one that an answer was required.

"Come with me," Elrond said and walked away from the House towards the stables. As they reached a small shed, the Elven Lord put his hand on Celeborn's shoulder. "I... I cannot bear to show you this, but I know not how to help my... _ionnath_." His voice shook, then broke as he spoke the word ' _ionnath_.' 

Celeborn, shaken himself by the loss of seemliness in his friend, shuddered himself. "You know your own _ionnath_. How can this be - that you cannot help them?"

Elrond did not reply, but opened the door and ushered Celeborn inside. _Yrch_ cocks hung from the ceiling, others were nailed to the walls - hundreds of them on display. The Lord of the Golden Wood reeled in horror and forced himself back through the door, holding a hand over his mouth. He turned away and retched until his sides hurt and his stomach ached. 

Elrond had not said a word. When at last the Lord of Imladris touched him, Celeborn felt the tremors that ran through his grandson's father. "How did this come to be? What have they told you?" 

"They do not know I have discovered it."

"You truly believe it is their handiwork?" Tears pooled in his eyes and Celeborn tried to blink them away. It was a futile attempt; they spilled over and fell.

"I have Glorfindel to thank for the discovery. He watches over them, unbeknownst to them. When they returned from their last sortie against the _Yrch_ , he followed them. Something in their demeanor alerted him. He came to me and showed me."

"You did not suspect?"

"My every thought has been for Celebrían. I could not imagine. I did not want to know... I saw the hate in their eyes." A shiver coursed through him, so vicious he had to stop speaking and wrap his arms about himself. 

At this, Celeborn stepped forward and took the Elf into his arms, clutching him tightly to his bosom. Elrond, not ever allowing such familiarity from any but his immediate family, stiffened in surprise. After only a moment, he relented and let the warmth and love that he felt flowing from the great Lord of Lórien encompass him. The walls he had constructed around him broke as Beleriand must have broken when Eru Ilúvatar smashed the land and drowned it into the sea. He choked once, twice, then began to sob disconsolately. 

Glorfindel watched from the stables. At last, as Elrond disengaged himself from Celeborn's arms, he stepped forward. "My Lord, what would you have me do with this?"

The Lord of Imladris looked at his seneschal. "It is not your problem to deal with, Glorfindel, though you have my gratitude for your circumspection."

"Nay. It is part of my purview. The twins are under my authority. I cannot allow this in the ranks, no matter whether they are your _ionnath_ or no."

"You cannot think they... They are grief stricken. They know not what they do."

"I think they know too well what they do. That is why that room is so filled."

Celeborn stepped between the two. "Glorfindel, though I am not your lord, I am descended from Elwë, High King of the Sindar and friend of your kinsman, Finwë. I deem my word is worth respect. You may not touch them, nor punish them, nor even speak a word to them. This is your lord's purview."

Elrond placed a gentle hand on Glorfindel's arm. "Do not take umbrage at what Lord Celeborn says. He speaks truly. You may not discipline Elladan and Elrohir. If I must, I will send them West, for I know not if they will ever heal from this wound. The matter is in my hands."

Glorfindel nodded. "As you wish. I would have them barred from service for the nonce."

"It will be done; however, the word barred will not be used. I will send them to Lórien. Perhaps Galadriel... they may find some healing there."

Glorfindel bowed and left them.

Elrond walked to the stables and sat on a bench by the door. Celeborn stood next to him. "They will not leave. They will not stop their reign of vengeance."

"They will or I will send them West. I am still their Lord as well as their _Adar_." He hissed quietly. "The building must be burned to the ground."

"I agree. Shall I order it?"

"Nay. Erestor will order it so."

"Galadriel will care for them. It is a wise decision, Elrond. They cannot stay here; they cannot continue these deeds."

"Will you stand with me...? When I order them to Lórien, will you stand with me?"

"You need not ask. For their sake, I would do anything."

~*~

A/N - 1) There is controversy, as always with Tolkien, about Celeborn and his origins. I am following the 'tale' that states he is Elwë's grandson. 2) I am also going with the 'tale' that Glorfindel might have been the son of one of Finwë's daughters. 3) Telerin - I know the singular for Teleri is Teler, but when I researched this, it seemed that Telerin was used as an adjective to describe a Teler. If I am wrong, I would greatly appreciate correction. 

_Muin nín - My beloved_  
Garn nín - my own  
  



	10. Will Healing Come

He stood behind the desk and looked out at the gardens that flourished, even this early in spring. Celeborn knew Lórien was filled with the scent of her mellyrn, elanor, and niphredil. The grasses would now cover Cerin Amroth, one of his favorite places, and the rivers would be high and clean and clear. A flood of sorrow swept through him; he was not oft away from her, from his glorious Queen; it could not be helped, but he missed her and their realm. He turned as Arwen entered the room, his heart breaking at her obvious grief, but he waited for Elrond to speak.

"You asked for me, _Ada_?" Her eyes brimmed full and red.

"Please sit, Arwen." Elrond motioned to the settle across from the fireplace, which, even though spring had come to the vale, was filled with a roaring fire. As she sat, Elrond knelt in front of her, taking her hands into his and gently patting them. 

She looked askance. " _Nana_ is not...? She will not...?"

"Nay. I called you not here for your _Naneth_. Have you spoken with your _muindeir_ of late?"

She looked at her father in surprise and, to Celeborn, seemed to be a young _elleth_ again, perhaps forty-two or so, who spent many an afternoon holding his hand as she learnt, at his knee, her _tengwar_. He bit his lip.

"I have not spoken to them since _Nana_ was returned to us. They... " She pulled her shoulders back. "They frighten me."

Elrond nodded. "They are not well, Arwen. They will not speak to me of the ill that ravages them, this need for retribution, vengeance, but they are not well. What I now ask will sorely try you, but I must ask it, for their sakes. Will you listen and not interrupt?"

Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

"I would use you as a ploy. I must send Elladan and Elrohir to Lórien for healing, but they will not obey me. Of this, I am sure. If I tell them that you need to go, need some rest from the grief of your _Naneth_ , then they will obey and take you, for they love you dearly."

She bit her lip and Celeborn turned from her; he could not bear to see the pain on her face. She was no dullard; she knew she was being asked to leave her _Naneth_ and go away, but she did not interrupt, as she had promised.

"I know you wish to be at your _Naneth_ 's side and she truly needs you, but I fear for them, Arwen, greatly. Your _Adadhron_ will stay here with her; and I will not leave her side. It cannot be helped, Arwen. I know of no other way."

Her head bent and Celeborn felt as if his heart would break. 'This is too much for her. She is torn between _Naneth_ and _muindeir_.' He stepped forward, then stopped himself. 'She is a grown _elleth_. I dare not interfere.'

"I will do as you ask. When must I leave?"

"As soon as possible. Something must be attended to immediately, before it is discovered by others, to your _muindeir's_ shame."

"Tomorrow even?"

"If you would?"

Tears fell gently down her face. She stood and moved to step forward, but Elrond had risen at her movement and taken her into his arms. "I promise. Your _Naneth_ will be well. As soon as your _Nanadhril_ has control over your _muindeir_ , I will have you return. You need not wait for their healing."

" _Nanadhril_ will be able to keep them there," Arwen smiled sadly. "I will be ready at first light." She began to walk away, then stopped. "Might I spend this night with _Nana_?"

Elrond could do naught but nod. Celeborn stepped forward, but she only looked at him in sorrow and left the room. 

"Galadriel will be able to help them. I am too close to them. I farspoke with her this morning. She is ready."

Celeborn smiled sadly. "I spoke with her myself, showed her the room; she understands. Have you ever seen the like of it before, Elrond?"

"When my _Naneth_ was... It is blazoned in my heart. The sons of Fëanor came to our town. The light in their eyes was too dark to describe. I have seen that same light in my _ionnath's_ eyes. Mayhap, the blood of Finwë taints them. 

Celeborn remembered that time and the eyes of Fëanor. Galadriel and he waited upon the western shore for the ships to return; they never did and those who left Aman following Fëanor crossed the Helcaraxë, in pain and shame. He shook his head in anger, then quickly left the room.

Hurrying along the same corridor, Arwen finally allowed the tears to fall. Her heart bode ill for this journey; she did not want to leave her _Naneth_ 's side, but she understood, from the blackness that she felt whenever she was near Elladan and Elrohir, that her _Adar_ was fearful for their very _fëar_. She ran into her rooms and bade her maidservant pack, then she turned and ran to Celebrían's rooms. Celeborn waited for her outside the door.

"I will not bid you fare well, Arwen." He pulled her close to him. "I cannot bear another parting. I had never thought myself weak." His voice broke, but he continued on, "I love your _Naneth_ dearly. Do not fear for her while you are gone. I will watch over her. If something untoward happens, I will speak with your _Nanadhril_ immediately and she will send you home." He kissed her forehead before she spoke a word, turned and left her.

Arwen looked after him in great sorrow. She had never seen him like this. He was always strong, though silent. She knew he acquiesced to Galadriel in almost all things, but when it came to Celebrían, he was the _Adar_ and what he said was decree. Galadriel learned ages before that she had almost no say in raising the _elleth_. 

Quietly, she opened the door, knelt on the floor at her _Naneth's_ side, and wept. Eventually, she climbed into the bed and held her _Naneth_ tightly. Celebrían slept peacefully, yet unaware of what had happened to her body. Still in the deep sleep that Elrond had placed her in, she was oblivious to the world and those about her. She never felt Arwen, as her daughter lay next to her, an arm around her chest and tears of deepest sorrow running down her cheeks.

~*~

Erestor, surprised that Elrond and Celeborn stood at his side, ordered the torches to be placed. The straw that surrounded the little shack immediately burst into flame and the shed took but moments to burn to the ground. Some of the guards who had taken part in the detail recoiled at the smell, but others recognized it immediately and wondered at exactly what had been in that lean-to. None, of course, questioned; nor did they speak of it amongst themselves after the fact.

"They will be with Galadriel in a very short time. The five hundred warriors you sent to accompany them should guarantee their safety. Would that you had... " Celeborn turned and walked away from the burning edifice.

"You would that I had...?"

"I also would that I had," Celeborn scowled. "Fools, the both of us. Now, not only do we suffer for our gross neglect, but also those we love suffer. Celebrían will never be the same; I doubt if Elladan and Elrohir will ever recover. I know not how or why Arwen has remained so strong through all this."

"I will not give up hope. Celebrían knows she is loved. She will fight this and she will win this battle. I will stand by her side, if you find you have not the stomach..."

Celeborn lurched towards him, arms outstretched, fingers ready to grasp the sleek throat. At Erestor's shout, he pulled himself back. Glaring angrily at Elrond, he walked into the forest.

Glorfindel shadowed Celeborn. Erestor followed Elrond. 

"I think it is time for some Dorwinion and a bit of planning for when your _ionnath_ return. I think a feast would be appropriate. By that time, Celebrían will probably have resumed her duties as Lady of Imladris."

"She will never return to her duties; Celeborn speaks truly. She will either fade or sail into the West." Elrond sat hard upon a bench in the garden they were passing through. "I could not bear to hear the truth, but he speaks rightly."

"Then you must speak with him, my Lord." Rare did his advisor use Elrond's title. 

The Lord of Imladris looked at him strangely. "I would save her," he choked. "I would cut off both my arms; I would stab out my eyes; I would hang from the chains of Morgoth if that would save her, but it will not and I am as lost as she is. I will lose my _ionnath_ to this and Arwen will sail with her _Naneth_. I will be alone."

"You will not be alone," Elrond stared up in surprise into Celeborn's face. "I have vowed that I will not leave Middle-earth."

"Then so it shall be." Elrond stood and grasped Celeborn's arms. "We two shall remain and give whatever happiness we may to those who remain with us and we will fight together against all of Morgoth's own."

~*~

"Elladan bites them off," Elrohir said in a matter-of-fact voice, fingering the lacework covering the chair upon which he sat. "Then he spits them in their faces."

Galadriel did not flinch. Celeborn had shown her the 'trophies' the _ellyn_ had taken. "Tell me - from the beginning."

"It was easier once _Adar_ came and took her home. We could think of naught but saving her, before that. There were times, as we cleaned their seed from her..., I thought I would go mad. Glorfindel sensed it and took me aside a number of times, but it did naught to assuage the burn in my heart and my loins. I could feel her pain, her suffering, and every part of me wanted revenge, especially my loins." A small blush touched his cheeks, but his mouth hardened and he continued. "When _Adar_ came, I could feel the fire in me; it had to be quenched."

"Has it?"

A cynical chuckle. "What think you?" His eyes stared vacantly ahead. "Then what happened happened. We returned home with the company and waited until all was settled and she seemed to awaken."

"She?"

A shudder passed through her youngest _inyo_. 

"We left then; rode as hard and as fast as we could, back to the cave to follow the trail of those who escaped before we came. We found them within a short time. There were myriad caves on the slopes and they were easy to find, the smell alone gave them away. At first, we killed just for the kill, but eventually, we found it sated not our hunger. Mortal wounds were made, but ones that would take their lives slowly, so that we could spend time with each one, sometimes stroking them until they were close to release and then, then we cut their parts off." His face had hardened further; Galadriel grasped her ring and held it tightly. "We would hold them in front of their noses. Sometimes," a cold, unnerving chuckle echoed through the glade, "their seed would spill from their cocks. Elladan would dance. After a time, even that was not enough for him. He began sucking them; when he felt their release coming, he would bite it off and scream in their faces. Their seed would spill forth and cover their faces - and his. Sometimes, 'Dan would shove a branch up their holes and thrash it back and forth before he pleasured them."

"What would you do?"

"I just cut them off. Cut them off and put them into my bag. Sometimes, when I watched 'Dan, I would stroke them, but mostly, I just cut them off."

"Where is 'Dan now?"

A shrug. "I know not. We obeyed _Adar_ and brought Arwen here. Once she was safe, he left. He did not even tell me, and I did not sense it." The brow of her youngest _inyo_ furrowed. "I cannot feel him."

"I cannot feel you."

He looked at her in genuine surprise. "Why not?"

"Come and sit by my side."

He hesitated and she held her arms out. "I have chocolates."

His eyes appeared hollowed. "I can no longer taste anything but their seed."

'In time, you will remember the taste of chocolate. Come and sit by me." Her arms were still extended. He shook his head, confusion rampant upon his visage. She touched the ring and he sighed. He walked towards her and finally sat. She put an arm around him and gently squeezed it. Slowly, ever so slowly, his head dropped until it lay upon her shoulder. 

She began to chant the words of sleep and he pulled back, alarmed. "Only for a moment, Elrohir. We will not leave this grove nor will I call anyone to us. You will rest for one hour and then we will speak again. In the meantime, I will have tea and chocolates brought here. When you awake, we will refresh ourselves." She touched her ring again.

He slipped forward against her shoulder, yawned, and closed his eyes. 

~*~

Elrond sat at the edge of the bed, tears falling relentlessly down his own cheeks; Glorfindel wept quietly by the door. At that moment, Celeborn stepped into the room. Gasping, he fell to his knees. "Faded!" he wailed aloud.

"Nay!" Glorfindel was quicker to his side than Elrond. "She merely sleeps."

"But she looks so... "

"She is in the deepest of sleeps. I do not want her to feel the pain. She awoke screaming." The Lord of Imladris did not apologize. 

"Does she know?"

"Nay. She is still too weak. I could not risk her knowing."

"She must know something."

"Of course she does," Elrond snapped. "She felt the pain in her... She felt the pain. I believe that is why she screamed when she awoke. She knew something was done to her, but I hope it is still thought to be by the _Yrch_."

"I will sit with her," Celeborn said quietly. "Go back to your duties and leave me with her. When she wakes, I will tell her."

"I did this to her."

"You had no choice."

~*~

_Muin nín - My beloved_  
Garn nín - my own  
Hiril vuin - beloved lady  
Hîr vuin - my lord  
http://www.realelvish.net/101_sindarin.html

There seems to be an argument over whether to use the ^ or the ' for my - so I'm going to just use the ' for all instances of my in Sindarin.....

<http://www.phy.duke.edu/~trenk/elvish/pron_rek.html>

Inyo: Grandchild, grandson.   
Muindeir - plural of muindor (brother as it relates to a family member)  
Fëar - plural for fëa (spirit/soul/inner essence)


	11. Another Search Begins

Celeborn's head bowed in deepest sorrow. He had left Celebrían but an hour ago, slept for a few moments, then wandered out here, to her garden. Smiling at the beauty of it, and knowing Arwen had been keeper of it these past months, he had been caught unawares when Galadriel contacted him. The tale she told was almost more than he could bear. 

At last, he asked her, "Can you sense him at all? Elladan? Is he within the Golden Woods yet?"

"I think not. There is a faint stirring in my mind. I believe he is to the north, probably by the eastern entrance to _Hadhodrond_. There are _Yrch_ caves located near there."

"Send a troop to meet me at the base of _Celebdil_. Where the _Nimrodel_ meets the _Celebrant_. I should be there in twelve, perhaps thirteen days. I will find him and bring him to you. He cannot be allowed to wander alone, with such fury in his heart. It will be the death of him. Keep Elrohir with you, at all cost," Celeborn shrugged and sighed, knowing she would not see it, "even if you must imprison him."

Galadriel held her thoughts. "I will send a troop. Do not yourself come alone over _Caradhras_. You are not a Vala."

"I doubt even the Valar would journey alone anywhere in Middle-earth these days. Are you well?" He paused for a moment, disturbed by the disquiet he felt within her.

"Will Celebrían leave us?"

"Yes."

Nothing more was said. 

A half an hour later, Celeborn stood at the foot of Celebrían's bed. "Would you step with me into the hallway for a moment?"

Elrond nodded, motioned for his chief assistant to take his seat next to Celebrían, and followed her father. "I have been wondering when you would leave?"

"I leave not for my own lands, but for _inyo nín_. Elladan has left _Lórien_ and none know where he ventures. I must find him. Elrohir has told Galadriel some disturbing thing. I fear for Elladan's life. His mind has been overtaken by revenge and he is imprudent in his actions."

Elrond choked on the laugh that threatened to undo him. "Imprudent? Is that what you call this? It is madness!"

"I speak not of the killing. That is between him and Ilúvatar. I speak of the headlong rush into danger, with no thought for his own safety. He is like a terrified troll as light comes near. No thought of anything but hiding from it. Elladan's thoughts are solely on the kill, not on his back. And now that he is away from Elrohir, his back is exposed."

"So you mean to find him and then what?"

"Take him back to the Golden Wood, to Galadriel. The Galadhrim will not be fooled again. He will not leave the Wood until she gives the command."

"When will you leave?"

"At first light."

"And you will take those who came with you?"

"I will. But no more. Galadriel is sending a full troop to meet me at _Celebdil_. She feels a touch of him near there."

"I have one request."

"Speak it."

"That my seneschal, Glorfindel, travels with you."

Celeborn took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "He was with them when they found her?"

"He was."

"And, now that you have hindsight in this matter, did he do aught to forestall this problem?"

"He noted Elrohir's anguish and took him aside a number of times. I believe that is, perhaps, why Elrohir is still in the Golden Wood, whilst Elladan journeys towards his death." Elrond choked at the final word.

"If he is ready at first light, he may join me."

"Then spend the night in rest. I will sit with Celebrían."

"I will stay with her until you come then. Go now and do what you must."

"You have already given your orders; you're supplies are being packed?"

"They are. I know not how long I will be gone. Arwen is returning as we speak. But not through the Redhorn Pass. She comes from the south, from Isengard."

"That is a very long route."

"It is safest."

Elrond nodded, paused for a moment, then embraced Celeborn. "I wish you success. I want _ionnath nín_ back whole."

Celeborn hesitated in returning the embrace, then finally surrendered his pride and held Celebrían's mate close. "They will recover from this. Even if we cannot save _sell nín_ , we will save _inyonath nín_."

~*~

It was a subdued group that rode out of Imladris the next morning. Celebrían had slept peacefully; news came that Arwen was indeed crossing the Fords of Isen; Glorfindel met Celeborn at the stables, and Anor rose, as it always did.

Elrond did not farewell them. Instead, he sat beside Celebrían and held her hand. She had awakened only moments before, pain unimaginable filling her eyes. She clutched his hand. "Where are _ionnath nín_? _Sell nín_?"

"They are traveling. Galadriel decided she must return to _Lórien_."

Innuendo, half-truths, outright lies. Had he ever been this false to her? Yet, he could not speak of what their children were suffering; he could only tend to her, in hopes that her recovery would bring healing to all.

"I would not know what has happened to me," she whispered. "I would not have... _them_ know."

"Of course not. Put not your energy into worries and fears, but into healing." He smiled. "I need my Lady beside me. Thranduil has sent messages saying he will attend us shortly."

Her mind, too taken by the pain and such that roiled through her body, paid no mind to Elrond's speech. 

"I have some _athelas_ here. But also, some bread and honey, apples. I thought you might be ready for a little food."

She bit her lip, tasted the blood, and sobbed, ducking her head into the pillow behind her. "I feel some gaps. I have lost some teeth?"

He nodded, unable to speak for the lump in his throat.

"Perhaps some apple butter then, instead of the apple?"

Elrond's face lit as the ocean when Anor strikes it. "Apple butter it is then. I have tea ready now." He stood and poured, bringing the cup to her. After she took it, he walked back to the server and spread the apple butter on the bread. Stepping towards her, his breath caught. Even beaten and bruised, she was still the loveliest thing he had ever seen. A tear slipped down his cheek. 

She saw it and misinterpreted it. "I look horrid."

"Nay," he whispered as he knelt at her side: the plate and bread slid to the floor. "My breath caught as I beheld the loveliest creature in all of Middle-earth, indeed all of Arda."

She looked searchingly into his eyes and saw only truth mirrored there. "You are blind," she half-mocked. "And I am lucky not to be." She gulped at the thought. "The bread?"

He turned and looked at the slice lying face down. "I will make another piece."

"It is at times like this, that I wish we had a dog."

"Celebrían," he cried and held her in his arms. "Your courage is now legend!"

She placed her head on his shoulder and sobbed. "Would that I remained Celebrían."

"You have!"

"Nay. I am but a shell."

"It is a precious shell, _garn nín_." He kissed her gently on her cheek. He knew not if she would ever again let him kiss her lips.

"How long, Elrond? How long since...? It seemed to be forever that I was... " She swallowed reflexively. "Held captive, Elrond? How long was I held captive?"

"Months. We could not find you."

She thought his answer over. "When you found me, what did you find?"

Another half-truth. "You were shackled, naked, and badly beaten... I thought you did not want to know?"

"That is all. How long since you brought me home?"

" _Ethuil_ has begun."

"Ah. I thought I smelt the eglantine. May I see my garden?"

"Indeed. Rest for a little longer. I will make arrangements. But only a short visit, _melethril nín_."

~*~

All of Imladris flew into action. The garden, though well taken care of by Arwen, was scoured and cleaned and raked and weeded until naught was out of place. Elrond carried her to the area and sat her in a well-stuffed chair. Quilts were thrown over her until she had to cry out for mercy. "Too many; I scarce can breathe."

Tea was set: scones loaded with clotted cream sat upon platters of silver; strawberries lay nestled next to them, delighting the eye; Lindir sat nearby, gently playing upon his harp. _Ellith_ ringed about, singing sweet harmonies to the tunes played. 

Celebrían seemed wearied as soon as she was sat, but closed her eyes and merely waved her hand when asked if she needed to return to her bed. A small smile lit her face. Birds came to welcome her. A rabbit, one she had often fed in winters past, sat at her feet. An indescribable sense of melancholy came over her, but she kept the smile on her face, though her eyes remained closed.

He knew, as he always did, deciding if she wanted their people to think all was well, then he would not let the truth be known.

Spring winds blew gently, but eventually, Elrond noted she shivered. He clapped his hands and the retinue began to clear the area as he bore her in his arms to her bed. Laying her gently upon it, he kissed her forehead. "Thank you," she whispered, and slept. Though Imladris regained hope, he knew she would leave him - and soon.

~*~

The ride was swift with only minimal breaks taken. They rode from sun up to sun down - eating their midday deal ahorse. There was no singing, no laughter, and rare were the words that were spoken above a whisper. All felt the grief that captured their lord and none was about to remark upon it. Glorfindel was accepted, but not welcomed. At last, they came to the base of Celebdil and stopped for the night. Camp was made quickly, pickets were set, and Celeborn retired to his tent immediately after the meal. 

Glorfindel finally had had enough. He strode quickly towards the Telerin Elf's tent and walked inside, not bothering to ask for permission to enter. "Do you always ride like this?" he groused, the usually gentle voice rough.

Celeborn looked up in surprise. "When the stakes are this high, yes. Do you always enter your lord's tent without asking?"

"You are not my lord, though it matters not. I enter Lord Elrond's tent or study or infirmary whenever I have need. Without permission."

"Elrond is very tolerant."

"I do not bother him with inconsequentials." Glorfindel sat on a stool near the brazier, holding his hands out to warm them. "It is a bitter spring."

"It was a bitter winter." Celeborn sat on the cot, realizing that Glorfindel was here to stay - unless he physically threw him out. Sighing, he asked, "You have something you wish to say?"

"You surmise that Elladan is somewhere in the vicinity." It was not a question. "I assume you will split us up. Am I to lead a contingent myself, or will you put me under another."

"Why do you ask?"

"I have some ideas of where I would like to look. I would prefer to be on my own, with perhaps only one or two others to accompany me."

"And when the _Yrch_ attack, as they will, seeing only a small, defenseless party before them, then what will you do?"

Glorfindel snorted. "I have not been defenseless since I was released from the Halls of Bannoth."

At that, Celeborn shivered. "I had forgotten." His face turned crimson.

"I suppose I have become like unto the _Yrch_. I fear not death, nor even torture. Yet, I would not have that be upon Elladan."

"Speak plainly. Why do you wish to go alone?"

"Because I see great evil befalling Elladan if the _Yrch_ discover we are looking for him. His torture and death will be swift." Glorfindel's keen eyes pierced Celeborn's heart.

"So a large party will be easily discovered?"

"I think so."

"Should I then send out little sorties?"

"Nay. I think they know we are in the vicinity. They may not know he is here too, though I believe he has been killing for weeks now. Fear must be coiled within them, and they not knowing what force it is that is against them."

Celeborn sat in silence. Finally, he stood and poured wine, offering a goblet to the Balrog-slayer. "So you think we should be a diversion whilst you search for him?"

"A diversion or a mob."

A cold chuckle filled the tent. "A mob indeed. When my warriors encounter the _Yrch_ , they will not be gentle."

"I was sent to find Elladan - not kill _Yrch_."

Looking into his goblet, Celeborn spoke to Galadriel. After a moment, he looked back up at Glorfindel. "He is here, though I know not how close. When will you leave and who will you take with you?"

"Tonight, if I may. The _Yrch_ are about - I can feel them in the undergrowth. I would take Rúmil and Orophin."

"Have you spoken with them?"

"I have not. I would not go above you."

Celeborn grinned slyly. "Yet I am not your lord."

Another snort. "Will you command them to follow me?"

"I will." He stood and walked to the entrance and spoke quietly to his guard. Within moments, Orophin and Rúmil stood before him. "I am placing you under Glorfindel. You will begin the search tonight for Elladan."

The _ellyn_ bowed and left the tent. Glorfindel finished his wine, gave a slight bow to Celeborn, and left himself. Within moments, the three disappeared into the night.'

"They did not take horses," Haldir, said as he quietly stepped next to his lord.

"Nay. Elladan is close. Also, the horses would create a stir, too much noise."

"Do you trust him?"

"What is not to trust of someone who has given his oath to protect Lord Elrond and his family?"

"Why?"

"Perhaps as part of his oath to Turgon." Nothing more needed to be said.

"I am tired, Haldir, and weary of heart. I will rest and do as Glorfindel suggests."

"And that is?"

"To keep _Yrch_ eyes upon us whilst Glorfindel searches for Elladan."

Haldir nodded. "I will watch." 

Celeborn stepped inside the tent, swallowed the last of the wine, and went to bed.

~*~

__[Hadhodrond](http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/h/hadhodrond.html). - earlier Elvish name for Khazad-dûm (in later years - Moria)  
Celebdil - Westron is Silvertine - (Zirakzigil in Dwarvish)  
Inyë nín - my granddaughter  
Inyonath nín - my grandsons  
Ethuil - spring (around April 8th) - in the Imladris calendar  
Eglantine - fragrant wild roses   
  



	12. Complications

He stilled his feet; he was not quite ready to be found, yet. Though Elladan knew the _Yrch_ would not hear him, they would smell him, not the smell of an elf though, for he had deliberately aroused the skunk and was now sweetly perfumed. He had to hold back a sharp bark of laughter. The _Yrch_ would scurry from him and separate. 'Easy kill,' he thought savagely. It was, in truth, as he had thought. As the band approached him, his smell reached their noses and the _Yrch_ quickly separated, trying desperately to flee. He waited but a moment, then jumped upon the _Orch_ that was closest to him, slitting the throat quickly, but not deeply. The beast fell, clutching at its throat, trying to breathe. "I will be back," Elladan whispered with glee. He ran forward and found another, cutting the muscles in the great _Orch's_ calves and leaving it. "Wait for me, my lovely," he cajoled. Another two in like manner were quickly maimed. 'Enough for now,' he thought darkly. 'Four should sate me for an hour or two.' 

He listened as the rest of the band crashed through the woods, heading far away from him. 'If only they knew what real terror awaited them,' he thought wryly, 'they would fall on their own axes.' 

He knelt by the side of the first _Orch_ , watched as the blood trickled from the beast's throat, and smiled. "You are not in too much pain, are you?" he asked in the Common Tongue. "Let me help you." He reached down and cut off the creature's leggings, pulled out its cock, and roughly stroked it. "Perhaps this will take your mind off your throat?" The _Orch_ howled in terror, but as Elladan moved his hand faster over the hardening cock, it moaned piteously. "I see you do like this. Mayhap a suck?"

The _Orch's_ eyes widened in disbelief, then a yelp of pure pleasure tore from its mouth as Elladan took the member fully into his own and sucked it for one moment, one moment of bliss for the beast, and then a scream of pain and terror rent the air. Elladan took the severed cock and held it before the _Orch's_ face. "Would you like some?" he asked as black blood dripped from his mouth. The Elf then squirted cum over the beast's face. "Were you one of those who tasted my mother?' he asked gently.

~*~

"I have found h-"

Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond all looked up at the same time, surprise and then sudden worry in their eyes. 

'Glorfindel?' all three 'spoke' at the same time.

There was no answer.

Celeborn ran from his tent, mounted his steed, and rushed off, with Haldir close behind him. After only moments, a company followed. 

Elrond stood, walked to his balcony and looked out - holding his hand to stay Erestor's questions.

Galadriel merely listened, no breath coming from her.

~*~

When he came to, Glorfindel tried to stand, but discovered his arms and legs were bound behind him. He lay as some spitted beast for the fire. He shivered. If it was _Yrch_ , then he could be bound for such a purpose. But his heart told him differently. This was Elladan's doing. This time, the shiver was more in revulsion than surprise. He had seen the look upon the _ellon's_ face when he had tried to pull him away from the dead _Orch_. Elladan had roared, madly, and turned upon him. Trying to shy from the blow of the raised sword, Glorfindel's head and the tree met. He could remember naught after that.

He looked about the little clearing and spied Elladan only a few paces from him. He watched as Elladan lay over the last _Orch_ in the glen, preparing to finish the kill. Four _Yrch_ lay dead before him, various parts of their bodies strewn about. His skin prickled as he heard Elrond's eldest speaking softly. "Now was that not something special? Did you enjoy yourself? I could offer you more, a little longer? You seemed to enjoy it so very much? Ah! But you have nothing left for me to... Wait a moment. I know what will give you pleasure." Glorfindel shrank in horror as the _ellon_ took a large branch and thrust it into the _Orch's_ hole. As it screamed, Elladan stood and danced about it. "That feels good, does it not?" He danced to the creature's side and thrust again and again. "There. That is for my mother. She did not so enjoy your ministrations."

"Elladan," Glorfindel whispered. "Do not do this."

The Elf stopped with one leg raised, and sobbed. "Leave me be. Go back to Aman. You do not belong here. Purity is hated here."

"Elladan."

Collapsing, the _ellon_ screamed. "Leave me be! Do you not understand? I killed her!"

"Elrohir says he killed her."

Beating his head against the ground, Elladan screamed again and again. "I was the one! I was the eldest! I let him talk me into the tournament for I wanted to compete. I let him talk me into staying. She was my responsibility! I killed her! "

The _Orch_ moaned piteously and Elladan thrust his sword through the beast's throat. "There," he shuddered. 

"It does naught for you."

"One less," an eyebrow rose and Elladan stood. "One less."

"Elladan. You will never kill enough."

" _Ai_ ," the _ellon_ screamed and ran out of the glade.

"Fëanor be disemboweled!"

'Are you all right?'

'Yes, Celeborn. He has run from me.'

'Where are you? I am coming.'

'Do not bother. I will extricate myself somehow and go after him. Did you find Rúmil and Orophin? I hope they are not hurt.'

'Nay.'

Glorfindel hung his head. 'Nay you did not find them? Or nay, they are not hurt?'

He could hear Celeborn's short laugh. 'I would prefer you do not see me this way, but as it is... I am but a league from the camp I set this morning. If you find it, you will find me south of it.'

A quarter hour passed and then two. He was beginning to think his 'hiding' place would not be found. Bushes rustled and Celeborn rode forth. The look of surprise did naught to assuage Glorfindel's rising anger - nor shame. "Speak not, just untie me," he said as Celeborn jumped from his horse.

"You are trussed well. Were you to be dinner?" Celeborn stopped in mid-slice of the Balrog-slayer's restraining ropes. Glorfindel noted the Lord of Lórien saw the bodies strewn about, their parts lying nearby. 

"Elladan is still on a rampage. It is pure guilt, frustration, fear, and self-loathing that presses him onwards."

"I thought as much," Celeborn whispered. 

"He is following a fairly large _Yrch_ band. They are headed west. Their tracks are easy enough to follow. He is not far behind them."

"Glorfindel!" Rúmil and Orophin stepped out of the brush to their north, leading their horses. "Did you find him?"

"I did. Where were you?"

"We found tracks of another band of _Yrch_ , heading westward. We think they are going to meet somewhere up ahead."

"Then Elladan is in serious trouble." Glorfindel took the reins of his horse from Orophin and mounted. "Follow me quickly if you would help me save him."

They rode, eyes scouring the land and following with ease the trail of the _Yrch_. Glorfindel chided himself at least twenty times for being such an easy mark. 'It will not happen again,' he thought with remorse. 'He will be the one bound the next time,' his brow furrowed, 'if he is not dead yet.'

"Hold," Celeborn whispered. "He is very near."

Glorfindel slid from his horse, followed quickly by Rúmil and Orophin. Haldir held his lord's horse and Celeborn joined them. Shaking his head in alarm and ducking behind a tree, Glorfindel pointed. To their right were at least one hundred _Yrch_ and to their left, coming around an outcropping of large boulders was another group of at least two hundred. 

Celeborn nodded, hidden himself along with Orophin and Haldir. Rúmil, upon Glorfindel's orders, ran back to the company that had followed Celeborn and bid them to silence. 

The four waited, straining to see or hear Elladan. A faint whiff of odor and Glorfindel tensed. "It is Elladan," he whispered. "He has covered himself with skunk," he answered the obvious confusion in Celeborn's face. "He is downwind and hopes they will smell him and run. I think they will not be fooled twice."

Even as he spoke, Glorfindel noted the alarm and heightened activity of both groups. By now the three hundred had joined together and were speaking quite loudly about losing members of their bands. Their voices held much anger and Glorfindel began to fear for Elladan. But the Elf did not appear nor was there any sign of him.

Glorfindel signaled to Celeborn; they were now almost encompassed by the _Yrch_ and so they dared not speak. Yet Celeborn shook his head and Glorfindel surmised Elladan was no longer close.

'That is just perfect. He bring us into the midst of them, and then he dashes off.'

Almost at once, a blood-curdling scream came from about two hundred paces from them. The _Yrch_ looked up in surprise, began howling and rushing towards the sound, as Glorfindel paled. "Elladan," he whispered, and Celeborn agreed.

"Mayhap he saw our predicament."

"Or else the madness is worse than I thought and he is bent on being killed himself!"

Mounting, the Balrog-slayer rode off with nary a word. Celeborn turned back to Haldir and whispered, "They outnumber us more than three to one, but if we stay behind and kill off the stragglers as quickly as possible, we should even the odds."

Orophin and Rúmil agreed. Haldir, however, mounted and followed Glorfindel. The two remaining brothers separated, shadowing the band of _Yrch_ with Celeborn and his Elves and watching for those who fell behind, quickly dispatching them. Within but moments, thirty lay dead about them. Celeborn motioned for all to mount, then screamed Celebrían's name and rode forward, followed by the best of Lórien.

In the meantime, Glorfindel found Elladan in dire straits. It seemed quite apparent that the _ellon_ had called out to divert the _Yrch_ , but his skill was not such that he could, by himself, take on over three hundred _Yrch_. Shaking his head in fury and hopelessness, Glorfindel roared and joined Elrond's son in the battle. Elladan did not look pleased to see him.

_Orch_ after _Orch_ fell to the Balrog-slayer's sword, but the numbers seemed not to dwindle at all. Elladan was faring just as well, and as poorly, for the _Yrch_ never stopped coming. A scream reached their ears; it was Celeborn, and Glorfindel rejoiced. He stepped towards the _ellon's_ side and whispered, "When this is over, we _will_ talk."

Elladan stiffened and the _Orch_ nearest swung. Glorfindel's sword rang against the axe, saving the Elf's life. His arm held, but his sword did not; its tip broke. The Balrog-slayer lunged and stabbed the broken end into the _Orch_ , thrusting and twisting at the same time. The _Orch_ fell and Elladan looked on, amazement writ upon his face. Glorfindel grabbed his arm and whipped him about, just in time to keep another _Orch_ from disemboweling the _ellon_.

They fought together for what must have been at least an hour, never stopping, even with Glorfindel's broken sword. They found it best to fight back to back, because of the numbers that came against them; however, they would soon be _Yrch_ fodder, Glorfindel knew, at the rate the enemy pressed against them.

At last, the two warriors could see other Elves in the distance, fighting as furiously. Another hour and the battle was won. Only a few of the enemy still breathed, those wounded being methodically killed by Celeborn's own. 

Elladan looked about him, the blood lust finally abating. He gasped in surprise as a hand grabbed him and held him by the throat; his feet dangled in the air. "I said we will talk and that time is now." Glorfindel felt the shudder that coursed through the _ellon's_ body and grinned. He dragged Elladan away from the battle site. Haldir walked forward, as if to follow, but immediately stopped when the Balrog-slayer glared at him. 

"This will stop now!" Glorfindel let go his hold on Elladan's throat when they reached a small clearing, and grabbed both of the _ellon's_ arms, pulling them back and holding them in a vice-like grip. Elladan could not move. Glorfindel's fury was palpable and the _ellon_ knew he dared not speak. "Do you even know if your mother yet lives?"

The Elf blanched.

"She lives - but not because of your deeds. Would she be proud of you? Would she look lovingly upon you?" Glorfindel himself did not understand the fury that swept through him as he confronted Elrond's eldest. "Do you offer her one moment of peace because of what you do? You have corrupted Elrohir! Would that give her happiness? When she discovers what you have done, will she rejoice? Will she want to look at you?" he bellowed. "What future have you made for yourself and your _muindor_? You will be hated by all."

Elladan could only gasp; the pain in his arms and shoulders was excruciating. 

"If I can not break this madness, I will break your body!" 

Celeborn suddenly stood next to the Balrog-slayer and whispered, "Glorfindel, my friend?"

Glorfindel looked into Celeborn's eyes and gasped. He bit his lip but did not lesson his hold on Elladan. 

"What pains you so?"

The keen eyes filled with anguish. "I... You do not leave those you are sworn to protect," the Vanyarin sobbed, "even if it be for vengeance." Elladan suddenly sagged in Glorfindel's arms. 

"You left no one, Glorfindel. You did what you had to do, from all that I have heard."

"Not I," Glorfindel screamed! "Not I - Fëanor! 

The Balrog-slayer shuddered. "We lost Elenwë in the Helcaraxë. I was behind her and saw her fall through the ice. Turgon barely saved Idril. Do you know how many others - others who listened and believed him and followed him - to their deaths!"

"Do not go there, my friend. He will be judged by the Valar. Someday. Let it go."

"I do not think I ever can." Glorfindel turned back to Elladan and let the _ellon's_ arms go. "Your _Naneth_ still needs you," he whispered. "If you would save her from fading, you should return to Imladris."

Elladan fell to his knees. "What have I done?"


	13. Bannoth's Halls

Silence filled the little glade as Elladan tried to cope with the feelings that rushed through him. At last, he spoke, not to his grandfather but to Glorfindel. "I did not vow to protect my _Naneth_ , but there are unspoken vows. I know that is what you speak of. I owe my life to my _Naneth_ and my _Adar_. As they would protect me, so I would protect them. But," he swallowed and his eyes misted, "there is nothing I can do for her."

"There is Elladan," Celeborn stepped forward. "Your strength is powerful. Put yours with Elrohir's and not many can claim such strength, such resolve, such love. That is what your _Naneth_ needs. It may prevent the fading."

"Will she fade?"

"I know not, but your _Adar_ does all in his power to save her. She will not die, but she could fade."

"She could take the ship West."

"She could. I would have her stay in Middle-earth, but if she cannot..."

Elladan's head hung low. "I do love her. I see her wounds in my sleep; I can hear her cries of anguish; I remember cleansing their seed from her. Elrohir told me," he looked up in torment to Celeborn. "That she was... that they had taken her, but I would not believe him. I could not. I cannot, even now. My mind roils at the thought; it feels as if it would burst."

"Does the killing help?" Glorfindel asked.

"It did... at first. Not now. Nothing helps. I will make no excuse. I will not stop killing them." He grimaced. "I will no longer torture them."

"Your _Nanadhril_ awaits your return to Lórien," Celeborn held Elladan's arm. "Elrohir is still there. Arwen has returned to Imladris."

Elladan looked at his grandfather in surprise. "Arwen has left?"

"She was a ruse. To bring you and Elrohir to Lórien so that you might find some healing."

Elladan's back stiffened and Glorfindel would have laughed, such response so like when he was younger, if he were not afraid the _ellon_ would run off again. "Deviousness runs in the line, Elladan," the Golden Elf said simply. 

Elrond's eldest blushed. "I was never devious, just creative."

"Whatever you call it." Glorfindel stood up and wiped his sword off on a nearby Orch. "I think we should finish off that band of _Yrch_ and then return to the Golden Wood. There are still at least fifty that fled."

Celeborn led Elladan away. "We will begin the ride back. Haldir and the others will finish the _Yrch_."

Elladan nodded. "Glorfindel, would you accompany us? I have a question, I think 'Ro has one too."

"I will answer whatever I am able."

They rode back to Glorfindel's camp, were joined only a short time later by Haldir and the other Elves, and spent the night there. Elladan slept, but not entirely in peace. Once, during the night, Celeborn moved to his side, slipped down next to him, and held him tightly as his grandson wept. 

When morning came, Elladan's eyes were red and swollen. None commented. They broke their fast and were on their way before Anor rose. 

~*~

Elrohir greeted them as soon as they rode across the borders of the Golden Wood. Celeborn sighed in relief. His grandson looked almost happy. In fact, rested and well. 'So,' he thought, 'Galadriel was able to ease his pain. Now, if she can only succeed with Elladan...' His oldest grandson had not slept one full night. Nightmares had plagued the _ellon_ on their return journey. In the mornings, he would eat whatever was given him; he mounted at command, and spoke not. Celeborn was beginning to worry that two would sail West. A sharp gasp caused Glorfindel to look towards him, but the Lord of Lórien waved him off. 'If Elladan sails, then Elrohir will too.'

They rode into Caras Galadhon and immediately were divested of their horses. Celeborn led Elladan and Elrohir to his talan, while Glorfindel went to his guest quarters to freshen up. They planned to meet for the evening meal.

Elladan had still not spoken and Elrohir's head hung in grief. Celeborn held Elladan's right arm and Elrohir's left. He squeezed his youngest' but could offer no solace. 

"'Dan?"

Elladan did not answer. Celeborn stopped at the bottom of the great tree. "Perhaps the two of you would like to take a moment? I would refresh myself; your talan awaits; it is prepared."

Elrohir nodded, but Elladan did not move. "'Dan?"

"Well, perhaps not," Celeborn sagged in grief. "Come with me, your _Nanadhril_ I am sure is waiting."

The three walked slowly up the stairs that encircled the great tree. Celeborn had Elladan lead the way. When they entered the talan, the guards saluted and left them, at Celeborn's command. Galadriel entered but a moment later.

"Please sit," she stated with no preface. "Elrohir, you may leave us for a time."

Her youngest grandson looked appalled. She held his tongue but with a gaze. Disconsolate, he left them.

Naught was said for some time; the seats were comfortable; wine and cheeses were laid out on a table at Elladan's hand, but the Elf did not move.

As dusk began to settle, Celeborn's patience had worn thin. 'Are you going to speak to him?' he farspoke.

"Nay. Let him rest awhile longer. There is something in the wine."

He nodded, surprised he had not noted the glaze that was spreading across Elladan's eyes. "Was there need for such drastic measures?"

"There was. 

"You have looked into his mind?" he asked, incredulous.  
  


"Not deeply. I did not need to look far. He is... almost mad with grief and self-recriminations. I felt it as soon as he passed into Lórien. Did you not?"

The Lord of Lórien raised an eyebrow. "Would I be here now if I had not felt his distress, even in Imladris?"

She smiled at the gentle reproof. "Yet, you ask why I would use the drug?"

He inhaled deeply and watched Elladan. After another hour passed, the ellon slept, sitting up. 

"Too much?"

Galadriel sighed.

"Forgive me," Celeborn stated. "Shall we retire?"

"I have sent for Elrohir. He will take his brother back to their talan. The preparation should hold him until sometime tomorrow after noon."

~*~

To see his brother thus was heart-rending to Elrohir. Always, Elladan had been the strong one, the brave one, the one he could turn to for answers, counsel, courage. But now, Elladan sat on their bed, listless. His grandmother had told him about the medicine used and its effects, but it still unsettled him to see his beloved brother in such a state.

"I decided, since the evening meal was postponed, that you might wish a bit of company tonight?"

"Glorfindel!" Elrohir jumped up in delight. "Please, come in. You are most welcome."

"How is 'Dan?"

Elrohir bit his lip. "He is...."

"Drugged?"

"Yes."

"And it angers you?"

"Nay." The _ellon_ shook his head. "Yes, yes it does. I do not understand. She did not..."

"One does not call the Queen of the Galadhrim 'she.'"

Elrohir bit his lip deeper as he blushed. "One does not call ones _Nanadhril_ 'she' either."

"Now that that is settled, why are you angry? Could 'Dan have rested in the state he was in when we entered Caras Galadhon?" He waited but there was no answer. "Could he heal in the way that you have begun to heal?" Still no answer. "Tell me, 'Ro, why did your _Nanadhril_ do it?"

"Because 'Dan was lost." He choked on the words. "Mad with revenge."

"Nay. Mad with guilt." The Balrog-slayer was still for quite some time. "I have felt it myself - the guilt. It can destroy an Elf as surely as an Orch blade."

"What have you to feel guilt over?"

A dry chuckle and Elrohir gasped. Elladan's eyes were clear and bright. "Tell us, Lord of the Golden Flower, what could give you cause for guilt?"

Glorfindel never batted an eye. "The tales tell of deeds of wonder and prowess unmatched. And death sure and swift. But they do not tell of what it was like to watch those you love being destroyed systematically. Betrayed by one of your own. Children thrown from rooftops. Women repeatedly raped and disfigured, then slain. Oaths broken."

Elrohir stood up, quickly poured wine and handed the goblet to Glorfindel. The Elf took a large swig and then proceeded to destroy the cup, gripping it so tightly it buckled, then folded unto itself. 

"There was no hope, once the walls were breached. We could not join the battle. The traitor's men did not relieve us at The Great Market until late, when they finally realized their leader was a coward. We ran to the Square of the King and found the other Houses, what were left of them, assembled there. I watched as Ecthelion died, watched as Turgon's tower fell upon him, watched as House after House was slain. I lost my whole House, my household guard, everything and everyone I loved."

"But, you saved Eärendil."

A dry laugh. "Tuor saved him... and Idril. And the great eagle, Thorondor. Not I."

"Nay, Glorfindel, the tales say you saved them all. Covered their backs as they ran through the tunnel. Guarded them even unto the Eagle's Cleft. It was only then, when the Balrog attacked, that you left them! And that unto your own death."

"When I awoke, I found myself in a strange place." The Balrog-slayer did not seem to hear Elrohir's excuses.

Elrohir watched in amaze as a slight shiver ran over Glorfindel's tall frame. 

"I have always known of the tales of Badhron's Halls. All know of the Vala and his... domain. I suppose I never thought I would find myself there."

"What was it like, Glorfindel? Were you frightened?"

"I was not." He chuckled. "If I had any sense, I suppose I should have been. I woke to light, beautiful light, and with a sense of peace about me. But I was taken before the Lord of Bannoth and he brought forth my failings. I left Valinor in the company of Turgon, who I loved and served. But Turgon was part of the rebellion and I was deemed part of that, too. I suppose I was, but I did not look upon it as such. And I took no part in the... I took no part in the violence that ensued. You know of what I speak."

Elrohir nodded as his skin prickled at the telling. He had known so much of this story, but hearing it from someone who had actually been there!

"I knew the Vala had every right to condemn me, so I stood in silence as he listed my transgressions. The weight of them bore heavily upon me. My mind began to reel at the implication. I sensed I was deemed as guilty as Fëanor himself. I could barely stand. My stomach roiled and my mind tried to flee. Badhron's face was grim and foreboding. I suddenly thought that I would be sent out to the void with Morgoth. I could hardly believe it, but such was the horror that I felt as my offenses were held before me. I felt myself falling, Elrohir, and he caught me, held me close to him, and whispered words of encouragement. I could hardly believe it. My mind stopped reeling, my breath returned to some semblance of normalcy, and I breathed in such peace, I cannot describe."

"Why? Why did he forgive you?"

"It was not only Badhron, Elrohir. The Valar do not make decisions on their own. They speak to each other, consult and then decide. He spoke of my defense of Tuor and Idril and of their son. Though I felt lacking, and still do to this day, I was overcome with joy. I had forgotten how desperate I had felt; how giddy I was with madness before my exoneration came. That is what I share with you now, Elrohir. Elladan."

"They would not put _Naneth_ through such an ordeal." Elladan stated flatly. "They would not dare. She is..." The Elf choked. "She is sweet and kind and pure."

"I think they would not. But, I felt your need to ask of my own experience. Let it suffice to say that the Halls of Bannoth are not to be feared. If your _Naneth_ chooses to fade, she will find them peace-filled."

"She will not find peace here."

Glorfindel looked at Elrond's eldest and sighed. "Did Galadriel say Celebrían has made her decision?"

"Nay." Tears fell softly. "Or if she has, _Adar_ has not spoken her will."

~*~

A/N - 1) The [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) equivalent of _Námo_ is _Badhron_. Námo was more commonly known as **Mandos** ([Q](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Quenya): "Prison-fortress"), which is more correctly the name of his dwelling. The [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin) name for _Mandos_ is _Bannoth_.  2) In [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin), the equivalents to _Vala_ and _Valar_ would be **Balan** and **Belain** , respectively.  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mandos>  and Valar...  3) The tale of the Fall of Gondolin can be read in The Silmarillion: Ch. 23; Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin.


	14. Will You Go

"How is your shoulder today, _Naneth_?" Arwen asked as she fluffed her mother's pillow. Celebrían was looking out the window and did not appear to hear her. She asked again and flinched when her mother looked back at her; the once clear and bright gray eyes were vacant and unfocused.

"It no longer hurts. Nothing hurts anymore." Whispered words with tear-filled eyes. 

Arwen's heart broke for perhaps the thousandth time. She bit her lip and turned away, pretending she was smoothing out the covers. " _Ada_ will be coming soon. Did you enjoy your meal?" There was no answer, but Arwen had expected none. Though Arwen knew her mother's vocal chords were no longer damaged, her mother rarely spoke. When she was comfortable with how the bedclothes were settled, Celebrían's daughter sat. She took her mother's hand in her own, gently humming a favorite melody. They sat thus for an hour. At last, Elrond entered the room and Arwen rose in deep gratitude; her hope was beginning to fail. She hugged her father tightly, whispering of her mother's progress, more her lack thereof. Elrond nodded and let her go, gently pushing her towards the door. 'Thank you,' he mouthed. She turned and left them, stood against the closed door, and wept bitterly.

" _Melethril nín, y_ ou look well this morning," Elrond began with forced cheer. He went to the window and pulled the half-opened panels wide. "It is a glorious day outside. I will carry you to the porch and we can sit together and drink in the sun. Spring is here and lovelier than ever. Now that you have been returned to us." He swallowed hard. No response; none expected. He walked to the bed, took her cloak from the table nearby and wrapped it about her arms, then picked her up and stepped through the doors and onto the porch. Songbirds sang, a fountain nearby gurgled, and the waterfall to the left of them sounded its laughing voice. Her eyes never lifted. She sat motionless in his arms. 

A part of him wanted to shake her, scream to her to awaken from the stupor that held her, but the healer in him, the lover in him, knew it would do naught. Instead, he held her closer to his chest and let her feel his breath on her hair. 'Oh!' At that thought, he choked. Less than two inches was the growth that had sprouted from the shorn head. His eyes filled with tears, but he held them at bay, least she feel them. Another 'Oh' filled his mind as he realized she would probably not even feel his tears. She was oblivious to all. Gently, he sat her on a reclining chair and then sat, cross-legged at her side, never letting go her hand.

"I saw myself last night." 

Her whispered words surprised him and he looked up at her. 

"I went to my mirror, when Arwen was fetching some tea. My foot does not work rightly, but I made my way to the nightstand. I have no breasts, you know." Her tone was nonchalant. "I probably do not have a -- " She shuddered. "I have no hair. None. Well," she pulled on it as if it were some insect bothering her, "none but this pittance, this patch that looks like one of Arwen's dolls after many years use."

If it had been any other time, Elrond would have laughed, for many of Arwen's dolls from her childhood had dismal hair, from years of washing and combing and loving. He only swallowed hard and gently rubbed the back of her left hand with his thumb.

"I have no ears. Well, I have ears, but no tips. I have a broken nose. It is not very flattering, is it?" She did not wait for him to respond. "I will never be able to play the harp again. My hand," she held it up; it hung limp and useless upon her wrist. "Need I say more." 

"Your hair will grow back, _melda._ Your hand will heal as will your foot. You will be playing in the Hall of Fire by Mettarë next."

"I will not be here."

"Speak not such words, _melethril nín!_ You will not fade. Your _Adar_ and I have... Your body is strong, it will recover."

"I will not be here. I cannot abide this place. There are _Yrch_ hiding everywhere, you know. They think I do not see them, but I do. I keep watch. I hear them in the night as they shuffle towards my bed. I pull the covers over my head. They have yet to discover me, but I cannot hide forever."

Elrond sat in shocked silence. Celeborn, unheard and unseen, stood by the doorway. His tears fell. 

"They hide under my bed when you are there. They hide behind the curtains when Arwen comes." She paused and looked puzzled for a moment. "They slink out of the window when my _Ada_ comes. I like it best when _Ada_ is in the room with me."

"Are they here now?" Elrond was loath to ask but found himself compelled to.

"They are in the trees. Are your eyes so bad that you do not see them? Even with my ears damaged, I can hear them. Listen to the rustling. Look between the leaves. They are there, in great number. I wonder they do not attack, but they bide their time. I suppose they want me alone before they take me again."

Elrond knelt by her side and took her face, gently, into his hands. "There are no _Yrch_ in the trees, _melda_ , they are my elves. Look!" He gave a great whistle and twelve elves in various parts of the garden pulled back the branches behind which they hid and held up their bows. "See. They love you and will protect you."

"Nay," she whispered. "They are _Yrch_ dressed as elves, my husband. Why cannot you see this? I had once thought you wise."

Elrond gave another sharp whistle and two elves jumped from the trees, came across the garden, and stood before their lord. "Do you not recognize..." He waved them away at the look of terror on her face. "They are not _Yrch_ , Celebrían, they are Taendir and Gelmir. You know them. They have served me for many an age."

She still cowered against him. Elrond waved the guards back into the trees and took her in his arms. Celeborn came forth and knelt at her right. "They are my warriors, Celebrían, sworn to defend you to the death."

She did not look at him. "I cannot stay here. They come through the very cracks of the walls. I will sail when you decide to let me leave."

~*~

Arwen had cautioned them, before they entered their mother's room, but still, Elladan had expected... He had not known what he expected, but it was not this. Even though he and his brother had been the ones to find her in the _Yrch_ cave, had been forced to clean her many wounds, and had seen the total destruction wrought upon her by the _Yrch_... He left the room before she saw him, ran down the hall, and threw up before he reached the garden. 

After Celebrían's disclosure the day before, the silver-haired elf had taken to staying in her room. If this made his daughter feel safer, then he would do it, even over Elrond's objections. Celeborn had seen the horror in his grandson's face as the young elf entered the room and tried to catch up with him, but he was a step or two behind. Another instant of hard running and Celeborn was at his grandson's side. He held Elladan's hair back while the _ellon_ retched again and again. Finally, the bout was over and Celeborn held him close. "Elladan," he whispered brokenly, tears falling, "You did everything you could. Please do not lose yourself again to mindless guilt." He felt the young elf shudder and held him even tighter. "Let us walk a bit." He gently led him towards the garden, but Elladan collapsed in his arms. 

The Lord of Lórien looked up in gratitude as he felt arms about him, helping to share the burden of his grandson's body. "Glorfindel."

"I saw him run," the Balrog-slayer said simply. 

"Help me take him to my rooms."

Glorfindel picked the _ellon_ up as if he were a babe and carried him up a flight of stairs and into Celeborn's suite. Placing Elladan upon a settle in the outer chamber, he found goblets and wine and filled three. Passing one to Celeborn, he knelt before Elladan and pressed the goblet into the _ellon's_ hand. "Take a small sip, 'Dan."

Celeborn winced as he saw the pain etched into the young face. He swallowed the contents of his own goblet and sat in a chair across from Elladan, letting the golden warrior care for his grandson, for the nonce. At last, Elladan drank the wine and gave the cup back to Glorfindel. He closed his eyes and leaned back upon the cushions of the settle. A shrike's incessant cry startled those in the room. 'A herald of doom,' Elladan thought sadly.

Elrohir joined them a moment later, concern etched across his face. "'Dan? Are you all right?" He tried to pull Elladan into his arms, but the _ellon_ moved away, growling. 

"'Dan," Celeborn said sternly, "Do not betray your brother with your anger and guilt."

"The guilt is mine!" Elrohir shouted, standing and upturning a table in the fury of his response. "I wanted to stay home. I wanted to join the tournament! It was not 'Dan. Morgoth's breath, but it is all my fault." The elf collapsed to his knees.

"'Ro," Elladan slid off the settle and onto the floor next to his brother. "Do not," he whispered. "It is no one's fault and everyone's. We cannot undo what has been done. I just needed to... I just could not bear to look upon... She is going West. She must go West." The elder son of Elrond turned to Celeborn. "We must take her to the Gray Havens and procure a ship for her. She must leave soon, else she will surely fade."

"My son speaks wisely." They all turned to see Elrond in the doorway. "Arwen is with your _Naneth_." The Lord of Imladris did not move; his eyes focused upon his sons. "I feared for you, Elladan."

"I am well, _Adar_. I... I had a momentary... I have not degenerated back to that thing I was after... My stomach roiled. I did not want to spill its contents in front of _Naneth_." The young _ellon_ smiled sadly. "I did not mean for you," and his eyes encompassed all those in the room, "I did not mean for you to worry. My body betrayed me. I am well."

Elrohir squeezed his brother's hand. "Are you ready to go back? _Naneth_ must be concerned."

Elladan snorted. "She will not even notice that we are there, 'Ro. Her mind is somewhere else. Is that not true, Adar?"

Elrond nodded. "It is. Most times, she is not lucid. Or too grief-stricken to note aught but her own pain."

"She suffers," Celeborn said quietly. "I heard her words, Elrond, when you were in the garden. She is afraid, even when she sleeps."

The Lord of Imladris nodded. "She sees _Yrch_ in the fireplace, in the fountains, in the garden..." He hesitated a moment. "She will not be at peace until she is far from here."

"Does she have such faith in the _Belain_ that she thinks she will be free from fear in Aman?"

"The Quenya means 'free from evil.' I believe Aman will be thus for her. There are many who will greet her with open arms. Not all abhor Galadriel. "

Glorfindel stood up. "Finarfin still rules in Tirion upon Túna. She will heal there, Elladan. Her _Adadhron_ will take her to Ninir and she will heal. You have my promise."

Elladan stood, helped his brother stand, and embraced the Balrog-slayer. "I will hold you to that promise, Glorfindel. Now," he turned and took Elrohir's elbow and steered him towards the door. "We must see our _Naneth_."

After his sons left the room, Elrond turned and motioned. Glorfindel bowed and followed to make sure the _ellyn_ had no further mishaps. Elrond sat down, took the carafe of wine and poured himself a glass, then refilled Celeborn's. He looked at the glass in his hand and placed it on the table before him. "Please notify Galadriel. Tell her I will accompany Celebrían to the Gray Havens at the beginning of next month. If she wishes to say her farewells, or if she would accompany me to Cirdan's domain, she is welcome."

"Of course. I will accompany you, no matter her decision."

Elrond nodded, placed his hands over his face and wept. 

~*~

_Melethril nín - my love_  
Melda - beloved  
Ninir - Sindarin for the Balan (Vala) - Nienna  
For Adadhron - see Author's Notes for Chapter Four  
For the Sindarin name for Valar/Vala - see Author's Notes for Chapter Eight


	15. Release Me, My Love

The day dawned bright and clear as all Imladris gathered in the glen before the road that led up and out of the valley. The retinue was large: Elrond, of course, the twins and Arwen, Glorfindel and Erestor, the list went on and on. The crowd parted as Galadriel stepped into the glade that lay before Elrond's home. Her hand held Celeborn's arm, so tightly that he would have, had he noted it in the midst of his sorrow, grimaced at the pain. She was a warrior and her arms and hands were as strong as Glorfindel's himself. They walked slowly to their horses. Haldir helped his Queen mount; moments later Celeborn was mounted at her side. Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil mounted their own horses and stepped into the line behind them.

Elrond came slowly down the steps behind the Lord and Lady of Lórien. Celebrían lay in his arms, still and drawn. Arwen held her father's arm and helped guide him down the stairs, afraid that his pain and sorrow would distract him from the path. Elladan and Elrohir stepped lightly behind, ready to succor their father should his need warrant it. The depth of sorrow in the family's eyes was too great for many to behold. Heads were turned in respect - and grief. 

Murmurings were heard when Mithrandir stepped from the portico. All had known the wizard was in Imladris, but few guessed he would accompany the Lady Celebrían to the Grey Havens.

After some long moments, Elrond, Celebrían and Arwen were settled in the carriage while the last of the retinue mounted. No signal was given, but the company moved out as one in silence. One or two Elves waved fare well, but there was no response. 

Throughout the long journey to the Havens, Celebrían spoke not a word. Even as they camped at night, she would not be roused. Finally, Celeborn stood in front of Elrond, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Have you drugged her?"

"Yes," Elrond said simply. "She is too afraid. When I told her we were leaving Imladris, she screamed. I thought you had heard. She said the _Yrch_ would kill her. She was hysterical. I tried, at various times, to approach the subject again, and each and every time, Celeborn," Elrond choked at the memory, "she grew wild, spitting at me, cursing me, saying I wished her dead." The Elf shuddered. "I could see no other way. She would have died on this journey in the state she was in."

Celeborn's hands lowered; his head hung low. "I wish you had told me. She seems more comfortable in my presence. Perhaps, if I rode with her in the carriage?"

"If you wish. I care not, only that she is at peace."

"Then, with your permission, I will ride with her today. Would you lesson the dosage this morning, and we will see what happens?"

Elrond hesitated for a moment. "Very well." The dark brows furrowed. "If she... I will stay with you for a bit, after I give her the medicament, and see how she accepts your presence."

"Nay, Elrond. I am sorry, but if you are there, she will not act the same. I think you must be away from her."

"I will be away from her," Elrond choked and could not go on. 

Celeborn waited in silence, his own heart breaking for the Elf who stood before him in such agony.

"I will be away from her for ages to come."

"You have decided to stay in Middle-earth?"

"You know I have. I have obligations. There is strife to come and I am a part of it. You are staying." He continued when Celeborn nodded. "You know Sauron has not been defeated. The Belain can do no more for us. Therefore, I stay."

"Galadriel does also."

"Of course she does. She is still under the Doom of Badhron. She dare not go."

Celeborn held his tongue. Elrond's lack of respect towards the Queen of Lórien, though understandable in these circumstances, was still offensive. He walked away, holding his anger in check. 

"Because you are hurt that she has peace with him, you would attack him?" 

Elrond turned in fury, even knowing it was Glorfindel who spoke. "Galadriel's Doom might well prevent Celebrían's entry into Aman!"

"Ah. I do not think Badhron's Doom will be hers. I have been there, Elrond." The Golden Elf put his hand on Elrond's shoulder. "Come and walk with me for a bit?"

Elrond did naught to acknowledge Glorfindel's invitation. The Balrog-slayer tried again. "The morning is beautiful. Arwen sits with Celebrían. Come with me."

Elrond moved forward and Glorfindel was hard-pressed to keep up with the Lord of Imladris. "What would you have me say?" Elrond's voice was clearly tear-laden. 

"Naught. I would have you hear me. I have lived in Aman and interacted with the Belain. They are not vindictive. They will see Celebrían as wounded and help her. I promise you. Do you think Eërwen will let any harm come to her? Nay. Celebrían will be taken to Ninir's gardens and healed." Glorfindel stopped Elrond's forward movement and held his arms. "Her mother will let no one harm her."

Elrond slumped against the Balrog-slayer. "I know. I do not think I can bear this. She must be sent West, but how am I to survive? Will I be strong enough not to fade? She is my life, Glorfindel. I do not think I can live without her."

"You will. Of all of us, Elrond, you have suffered most, since your begetting day. Look not to the future. Take each day as it comes. You have your sons and Arwen. You have your friends. We will help you."

Elrond bowed in acquiescence. "What of Celeborn? He suffers even greater than I. I can see it in his face. Will he fade?"

"Nay," Glorfindel said emphatically. "I even wonder if he will ever go West. He struggles with the Belain. He is not happy with the Doom that Galadriel shares. I think he believes her blameless in that affair. Now his daughter has been... If the Belain had stopped Sauron when Morgoth was exiled, none of this would have happened. I think he blames them for Celebrían's misfortune."

"Misfortune. I suppose some would think that is all it is. A small misfortune. Do you see my children? Do you see the Elves of Imladris? The ripple of the first touch of the _Yrch_ upon her has grown into a wave that could rival the one that drowned Beleriand. There is no misfortune here, Glorfindel." The Elven lord's shoulders sagged. "We are now as dark as the Void. We will struggle for centuries to heal from this. Naught I have in my apothecary will lessen this grief. We will have to live through it."

"And you will," Glorfindel clasped the Elf's shoulder. "You will live through it and laugh. By the Bel... Arwen will be wed, someday, as will the twins. Great ceremonies and joy are still before us, my Lord. Though Celebrían will be missed, grieved over for all the ages to come, yet, joy will come, happiness will be with us again."

"Let my children see?"

"Yes."

Elrond swallowed and embraced his friend. "I suppose," a small smile lit his face, "that we should all be glad you were returned to us."

Glorfindel laughed. "If I came back to kick some sense into you, then it was well worth it. Come, let us return to your family. The morning waxes; we should be in Mithlond before noon."

The two friends walked back to the fireside. Elrond stiffened when he saw that Celeborn sat with Celebrían, but he let it go and sat with Arwen. 

Celebrían seemed better, at least to Celeborn. Her eyes cleared a bit. He wondered if it was because they were in Lindon or because the medicaments of Elrond were wearing off. It mattered not, though; she would be leaving him soon. Impulsively, he held her to him. She screamed and clawed at his face, kicking and biting. He held her off as best he could without hurting her. She would not be calmed, even as Arwen spoke to her. Bitterly, Celeborn watched as Elrond strode towards them, syringe in hand, and pierced her flesh with it. She fell into his arms as Elrond walked away in silence.

To say the camp was disturbed would have been an understatement. Not many had seen the deleterious effects of the _Yrch_ attack upon their Lady. Sorrow flooded the camp; Elrond decided action was needed and immediately called for the retinue to mount and continue onward. He saw Elves he thought the most stalwart wiping tears from their eyes. He understood their grief; he lived their grief. 

It was past the noon hour when the retinue arrived at the Harlond, the south haven on the river Lhûn. Cirdan himself stood at the entrance to the Elven stronghold and embraced Elrond as he dismounted. "It has been too long and now you come in mourning... and despair," the old one murmured in sorrow. "I have arranged for rooms for your family," he hesitated a moment. "And for Galadriel and Celeborn. The others of your train will be billeted further down the river, but close enough," he saw the unease in Elrond's eyes, "to be at hand upon your need."

Elrond nodded his thanks and walked to the carriage. Celeborn stepped out and held his hand out. Galadriel took it and stepped out; then Celeborn held out his arms and Arwen gently helped her mother out into the light. Celebrían looked around her in surprise, then swooned. Her father caught her and lifted her into his arms, then followed as Cirdan, quite shaken to see her cropped hair and mutilated body, led them forward. "The rooms are here; I will send a servant to care for your needs. Water, food, wine and such are already in the rooms. If you have further need, send the servant to me and I will assure you receive it. Anything you need."

Elrond held back, waiting until Celeborn had laid Celebrían upon the bed in the inner room. Galadriel and Arwen sat next to her. Celeborn closed the door behind him and stood before Elrond. "Forgive my questioning your abilities back at the White Towers. I should have known you knew what you were doing. Your," he bit his lip, "wisdom in such matters is well known to me. Forgive me. I only thought of my _sell_."

"We will not speak of it further. I would spend some time with her tonight, if I may?"

"You will not be parted from her until she sails, I promise you. Galadriel and Arwen are washing the journey's dust from her. When they are finished, you may enter. I will sit in this room, if you should have need of me. The night is yours. Will she...? Will they sail tomorrow? So soon?"

"I do not yet know if a ship stands ready. Lord Cirdan and I will meet within the hour. Would you like to be present?"

"Nay. I darest not. Though," surprising to Elrond, the Lord of Lórien blushed. "I am not of as much use to her as are you."

Elrond said nothing for a moment, then, "Is there anything you wish me to ask Lord Cirdan? Besides the day and time of departure?"

"I suppose how much she is able to take with her. Galadriel and Arwen packed many of her favorite garments and memorabilia. I am not sure what he allows aboard his ships."

"I will ask him. I will return." He opened the door and found a servant waiting outside. "Do I have rooms?"

The Elf nodded and beckoned; Elrond followed to a door across the hall. "A bath is ready for you. All you need has been placed upon a table next to it. There is wine here," he pointed to a table heavily laden with carafes and trays of food. "If you desire anything further, I will be outside your door." The Elf bowed and closed the door as he left.

~*~

Celeborn stood still as his daughter's mate left the room, pondering all that had been said. At last, he sat upon an overstuffed chair on the balcony overlooking the river. The scene was idyllic, peace-filled, and totally incongruous compared to the reason they were in Mithlond. He waited until his grief lessened and he was able to think without tears spilling down his cheeks. 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow my little one leaves me and I can do naught to stay her, nor help her.' 

"At least, her sons are healed." Galadriel stepped onto the balcony and sat at his feet. "Your thoughts are loud, _melethril nín_."

Celeborn embraced her, held her to him, and wept with her. "Because of you, they are healed," he was able to say at last. "If you had not spent the time with them, I fear they would be lost. Probably captured by Sauron and turned into filthy beasts." He shuddered. "I thought we had lost Elladan."

"I know. But they are both well now. They will never cease hunting _Yrch_ , but they will do it for the right reasons. Now, we must help our little Arwen. She has been so stalwart and brave during all this that I fear for her. I would have her live with us, for a time. I believe the memories will be too many in Imladris. What say you to that?"

"Of course. Wise, I think." He sighed. "I wish not to harm Elrond though. Will the loss of his daughter be too harsh?"

"I think not. He will ride with his sons, for a time. He has not had that... relief. I believe he will be grateful."

"Then it is settled. Though we must ask Elrond before we even broach the subject to Arwen."

"Agreed." The Lady of Lórien laid her head back against Celeborn's chest and sighed. "I am weary."

He nodded.

~*~

It was as Elrond had surmised. The Swan Ship was ready and provisioned. The morning came and all those who had accompanied Elrond to the Havens met at the dock. Cirdan stood by the boat; Mithrandir stood at his side. 

Elrond stood to the left of the ship and watched as Celeborn and Galadriel led his mate forward. Cirdan stepped up and took Celebrían's hand. Much to Elrond's surprise, Celebrían did not flinch, scream, nor flail her arms. She took the Elven Lord's hand and let him lead her to the ramp. She walked up it, turned for a brief moment and looked at him, then Celeborn; she then stepped onto the ship. He staggered and Glorfindel held him from behind. Elrond's eyes brimmed with tears. Arwen went to his side, as did his sons. They had all said their fare wells this morning, though Celebrían hardly acknowledged them. Still, it was staggering to see her and know that it would be ages before they met again. Elrond's arms already ached from the loneliness. 

For one brief moment, Celeborn saw the smile of his daughter as she once had been - bright as the light of Anor - as she stepped aboard the Swan Ship, but then it was gone, as was she - down to the bowels of the great vessel. He watched as the ship passed through the Narrows. Turning, he swallowed hard, and took Galadriel's hand. Tears streamed down her face; she crushed his hand in her anguish, but he did not mind. Overcome with grief, he pulled her to him. "Do not leave me," he whispered, frightened at the depths of his despair. She buried her head in his neck and sobbed. They stood there, knowing others looked away, giving them a moment's privacy, and clung to each other. 'So much for the great Lord and Lady of Lórien,' he thought miserably. 'I doubt I will ever again be happy.' The Lord of Lórien motioned and horses were brought to him; he and Galadriel mounted and rode East. He cared not if any rode with him. 

~*~

A/N - 1) See A/N for use of apothecary at the end of Chapter Four. 2) syringe AD 1375 - "a small device consisting of a glass, metal, or hard rubber tube, narrowed at its outlet, and fitted with either a piston or a rubber bulb for drawing in a quantity of fluid or for ejecting fluid in a stream, for cleaning wounds, injecting fluids into the body, etc." (I'm figuring that if the folks in the fourteenth century knew how to make and use syringes, Lord Elrond would too. Just IMHO. <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/syringe>; 3) train - AD 1350 a series of people, animals, things, etc.; 4) billeted AD 1375; 5) In [Sindarin](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Sindarin), the equivalents to _Vala_ and _Valar_ would be **Balan** and **Belain** , respectively.  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mandos>  and Valar; 6) _Melethril nín - my love;_ 7)Anor - Sindarin / anar - Quenya for the sun.


	16. Author's Notes

I just had to take a moment and apologize to those who love the twins. Somehow, in the midst of their sorrow, anguish, guilt, anger, fear and a thousand other emotions - I think they snapped - for just a short time. I had not meant for them to even have much of a part in this tale. Though from the very beginning, I think you can see the Muse had other plans - they found her, then cared for her till her father came. It had to be the most hideous experience anyone could ever imagine. For all involved.


End file.
